The Diary of a Not So Normal Being
by LittleMissRawr
Summary: Hey, don't get sassy with me- Wait, did you just give me a nickname?" "What?" "Did you just call me 'Nor?" I questioned. "Nora, can you try to focus on the bigger picture here!" Peter half-screamed in my ear. Peter/OC later on. Chapter Nine up!
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**So… hi. I'm a little new to this writing fan fiction thing. I got into Heroes this summer and I thought it would be fun to create my own character and insert her into the series from the beginning. Yes, I'm kind of living through her, no she's not completely me. Like I said, this kicks off around the beginning of the series and if you're a rather large fan then you'll have no trouble understanding where it is in the story (hopefully). I tried my best to stick to the story, but a few things may change just because it's so difficult to make everything match up perfectly. Again, I tried my best. **

**I DO NOT OWN**** Heroes or any of the characters created in the series. Also, a lot of the dialogue is not mine. However, Nora is totally mine and anything she says (or thinks) is courtesy of myself. Hope you enjoy.**

_Chapter One: The Beginning_

_I hate tomatoes. And pickles. And onions, oh my gosh, onions disgust me. But oddly enough I like a good onion ring… Does that really make much of a difference if it's breaded and deep fried? I bite on the cap of my pen, thoughtfully. I can't stand it when people only talk to you if no one else they like are around them and then ignore you if they're with friends. I mean, how lame can you be to treat someone who was good enough to talk to in a room full of strangers like crap when you're around the so-called "better people" the next minute? You might as well not even talk to me at all. I can handle innocent ignorance, but if it's shallow ignorance? I hate it when people wear band shirts only because liking said band is In at the time. I like asking them really detailed questions about the band just to watch them squirm. That doesn't make me a bad person, right? They deserve it, I'm telling you! _

"Nora!" My head shot up, breaking off my well strung out thought process. "Order up!"

"Got 'cha!" I replied, jumping up from my seat at the end of the counter. I danced around the tables, making my way to the backside of the diner and grabbed the two plates of food for the two lonely customers in the place. Well, I take that back, there was another person. But all he ever drinks is coffee. He sat at the complete opposite end of the counter, content with being left alone. I could always spot his shadowed, larger frame from the corner of my eye. He seemed nice enough. It was Saturday evening, seven after six, to be more specific, and the place was an absolute ghost town. The man and woman looked relieved as I set their food in front of them.

I moseyed back to my spot at the counter, picking up my worn out pen and bringing it to my lips again. A powerful piano-driven song suddenly came on over the radio speakers, with a singer that had a voice of which wouldn't be written off as Just Another Singing Voice to me. A smile crept to my lips. _Any guy who plays piano and sings like an angel deserves, at the very least, a smile_. The bell on the entrance door rang loudly and clearly, telling everyone in the restaurant they had more customers. I looked up from behind my dark-rimmed glasses to take note of the number of seats about to be filled. Six people. Pretty average-sized group. I stood up yet again, put on a smile and sauntered over to the table. After getting all of their drinks and orders, I walked back behind the counter, grabbing the coffee pitcher and stopping in front of the dark-haired man sitting at the counter. At first, I said nothing, but leaned down slightly, hoping to catch a glance at his expression.

Giving up, I let out the usual, "More coffee?" hoping I hadn't disturbed him. _Poor guy, he always acts so upset. Whatever it is, I hope it isn't too terrible_. Just as my thoughts trailed off, his head slowly began to raise until he was looking at me, then I realized for the first time what his face looked like. Round. _And deep brown eyes, caring and lonesome_. My eyebrows came together in concern. He tipped his head to the side in thought. I let out a short breath. "…Is that a yes?"

His expression suddenly changed, no longer looking as if he were concentrating on a difficult math problem and let out a small, almost sad laugh. "Yeah… yeah, sorry." I lowered the pitcher to his cup and filled the coffee to the top. "Thanks," was all he said as he brought the mug to his lips. I stood there for a moment, watching him until I suddenly decided to go against the grain of my usual diner routine.

"Ya know, not that it's any of my business or anything, but lately whenever you've come in here, you've seemed a little… bothered and I just was wondering if you were alright," I blurted out, obviously catching him off guard. His eyebrows rose and he was looking at me again. I closed my eyes and breathed out a chuckle. "I'm sorry, that was a bit rude. Forget I said anything." _Very nice, Nora. You're just giving off seven different kinds of strange, aren't 'cha? He doesn't know you_. His head was tipped to the side again, forehead scrunched up in intensity. _What is with that look? _

"It's fine," he suddenly replied, breaking me from my thoughts. "It's very kind of you to genuinely be concerned about someone you don't even know. That's nice of you," he murmured. "It's just been a long past couple of months, I guess." _Fair enough_. I let a sincere smile slowly appear on my face. _Usually I use my generic smiles for customers. Be happy_. "Well, may the next couple of months be a few notches above satisfying." With that said, I turned, walking back to the opposite side of the counter, setting the coffee pitcher back to it's rightful place on the way. The rest of the night passed slowly, people came, ate food, and then cleared out one by one. Tips were decent. The only customer who remained inside the diner was the man at the other end of the counter with the weird faces, drinking cup after cup of coffee silently. I was beginning to worry when my boss stuck his head through the door to the back of the restaurant.

"Hey, Nora. I'm gonna take the trash over to the dumpster. Be back in a bit. Are you good?" he asked.

Taking a good look at the empty room, I nodded and smiled. The man at the counter stood from his spot and walked away, heading towards the men's room. _That's a relief, I was afraid he was going to fall asleep right there_. Suddenly the door rang and a man dressed in a navy blue jacket and black boots strode into the building.

"What can I get you this evening, sir?" I asked the man as he continued to approach the counter. I immediately noticed his left hand was deep inside of his jacket pocket and he didn't look like he wanted a cup of coffee. Within seconds, his hand was out of his pocket and I realized he was grasping a gun in his desperate, shaking hand. "You can give me all the cash you have in the register," he said, threateningly. I froze and averted my eyes from the weapon in fright.

"I don't want any trouble," I whispered, backing up. He walked closer to me, leaner over the counter and raising the gun in my direction. "Then you won't have a problem getting me that money," was his cold reply. After what seemed like an eternity (which in reality was a few seconds) the man appeared in the men's room doorway, immediately aware of what was happening. He began walking toward the thief, with obvious intentions to take him down. I began to see everything in slow motion. It's funny, in movies when these kind of moments occur in slow motion, you're quite aware that time didn't all of the sudden decide to slow for effect. But when you find yourself in this type of situation, you discover that it's exactly like a movie in every way.

The arm attached to the hand holding the loaded gun rotated from me to the man from the other end of the counter and I was panicking. He was innocent. An innocent life taken away. He probably had a family. And friends who cared about him. _How can I just stand here?! _The loud pop of the gun firing woke me and I lost focus. I screamed in pure anger, adrenaline pumping through my veins, beads of sweat hot on my forehead. _Why this restaurant? Why this night? Why me? Why him? Why did we have to die? NO!_ I exploded and an overpowering energy that I can hardly describe or explain suddenly burst out of me and created a shockwave, aimed directly at the armed man in front of me. Then… silence. The man in the jacket and black boots was on the floor, unconscious. Knocked out cold. I heard a pained cry from the corner and remembered. _The bullet. The shot. The man_. I ran out from behind the counter to the man. He had the gun shot wound in his arm, grabbing at his sleeve protectively, but it wasn't his injured arm he was staring at. His caring and lonesome brown eyes were on me in shock.

"How did you…?" All I could do was stare back. _What did I just do?! Why is that man unconscious when no one touched him? You didn't get close enough to knock him out, right?_ "I did not touch that man," he told me in awe. My eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"I didn't say you did," I replied breathlessly. He only stared at me. I let rigid breaths as I ran back to the sink, grabbed a clean towel, and ran it under the faucet. I also grabbed the phone. "Put this to your arm," I ordered handing the damp towel to him, then dialing three simple numbers and pressing the phone to my ear. _How can we explain the man on the floor? _My eyes darted around the room quickly. They landed on the pots and pans hanging upside down. _I hit him upside the head with a frying pan. Yeah. _The man sat there all the while quietly.

"So he held a gun to you demanding money from the cash register…" I nodded. "And then a customer came out of the men's restroom and he turned around and shot at him…" I nodded again. "And then while he wasn't watching, you grabbed a frying pan and hit him in the head with it, knocking him unconscious?" I nodded yet again. The short police woman nodded in reply, looking down at her notepad. "Okay. I'll be back. You stay put."

I suddenly sat up straight. "Is he alright?" I asked. She turned back to me briefly.

"He'll be fine. Just a bullet to the arm. No major damage." With that she left the room, leaving me alone. I slouched back down and yawned. _I wish I, at the very least, knew the man's name so I can send him a balloon or something. I wonder what he thought he saw? I wonder what I thought I saw? I'm more than aware that the thief was not knocked out with a cooking pan. Was it me? It couldn't have been the customer. He wasn't close enough to reach him, much less punch him. _I sat in utter frustration._ Think back. What exactly happened? I was standing there behind the counter and the gun was pointed at me, then the man came out of the bathroom and came at the thief who then pointed the gun at him, releasing me for the time being. Then… I got angry. I got sad. I got hysterical. And… some strange, extraordinary feeling came over me and some type of strong force was pushed from me and was sent across the room. I knocked him down… with that 'strong force'? What was that?! I tried to make sense of it. But that's not possible? …Is it? _The door suddenly burst open and the police woman strode back in.

"Alright, Miss, you're free to go." I stood quickly, thanking her and exiting the room. I was escorted out of the building. _Is it possible that the man knew what happened in the diner? After all, he was gawking at me in utter shock. Maybe he knew what it was that I did. _Walking down the sidewalk, still in my waitress uniform, I looked around me cautiously. _Maybe I should visit him, try to make sense of what actually happened. On the other hand, maybe he has no idea what happened and was staring at me in utter shock because he was scared out of his wits. He probably thinks he saw something straight out of a Fantastic Four comic book. He probably told the cops everything. Although if that were the case, why would they let me go?_ I ended up not searching for him, but instead continued to live like that night never happened. I continued working at the restaurant, jumping every time the bell on the door rang, signaling a new customer, none of which was the person I was secretly watching for. Eventually I didn't jump as much or scan my eyes over the opposite side of the counter, wondering if he was sitting there.

Two weeks went by and still no sign of the man. On a cool, breezy night I turned off the lights to do restaurant and turned my back to the sidewalk, pulling out the key. I stuck the key into the slot and turned it until it clicked. I then suddenly felt a presence behind me. I stood still for a moment, just listening. Then I felt the lightest touch on my shoulder blade and I jumped, twisting around in fright only to find the man.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said awkwardly. My hand left my chest.

"So you sneak up on people on darkened street corners at night then tap them on the shoulder in hopes of _not_ scaring them?!" I cried somewhat dramatically.

He just looked at me with the same familiar brown eyes.

"Yeah."

I let a short breathe before stuffing my hands in my pockets and beginning to walk down the sidewalk. He walked along side of me for a few moments before speaking. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about a few things," he began, staring at the side of my face as I looked straight ahead of me. _Oh, great._

"And what exactly would those few things be?" I questioned, slowly. _He did see. He saw and he thinks I'm a freak. _

He looked at me for a moment before continuing. "Well, first of all, I wanted to.. thank you," he said just as slowly.

"For what? You got shot because I stood there like a baffoon. I didn't do anything," I replied, a hint of regret in my voice. _Why couldn't I have exploded with anger a few seconds sooner? _

"You stopped him with your…" he trailed off. I looked at him.

"With my what?" He used his good hand to make a pushing out motion. My mouth opened, but I said nothing. I closed it. Then decided to go ahead and open it. "That… wasn't me."

He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "How do you know?" I made a move to try and get around him, but he only moved with me. I frowned.

"You don't even know me, okay? Why are you here?" _Why can't you just move on with your life like I'm attempting to do? Even if you do know what happened, what then? _He stared at me for another moment. "Why do you always look at me like that?!" I pushed passed him and started to walk again.

His feet remained planted where they were.

"Wait! I know what this feels like, alright? And I know what really happened back there… to a certain extent." I rolled my eyes and kept walking. _So, what? What can you do with that information? Tell all of your bar buddies you saw a crazy waitress who knocked out a man using her mind?_ "You're special, Nora!" I stopped walking. Turning on my heels, I strode back to him, stopping directly in front of his face.

"What?"

"And I know this because… I'm special too." He looked at me with a serious expression cemented on his face.

"Enlighten me."

"Okay… You hate tomatoes," I stood there, staring at him for a moment as he pulled a face as if to remember something. I tried to slow down my heart rate. _I never told him that. _"… and pickles. A-and you absolutely hate onions, but you like onion rings, which doesn't make much sense. And… and the very first thing you saw in me was my eyes. You thought they looked caring… and lonesome." There was a small twinge of sadness in his face as he said this, almost too small for me to see. "You love rain more than anyone I've ever met before. Your favorite flowers are irises. And… you have no idea what happened to you that night two weeks ago," I was speechless. My brain wouldn't process it. _How…?_

"I don't really know. I woke up one day and out of nowhere… I could hear people talking without them saying anything. I can hear anyone's thoughts, yours included. You think you're a freak and that I think you're a freak. But I don't." My mouth was gaping, I simply couldn't believe what I was hearing. _Who are you?_ I asked in my head. He stared at me for another moment and then, with a small smile, said quietly, "I'm Matt Parkman."


	2. Chapter 2: Another Encounter

**Okay. So it's slow moving right now, but I swear just keep reading. It will get better. I don't have much to say right now except other characters will show up later on. Enjoy and please let me know what you think. :D**

_Chapter Two: Another Encounter_

I walked down the sidewalk at a fast pace, causing Matt to struggle to catch up with me. _I can't believe this is happening. To me, of all people! I'm not special! _"What makes you think you're not special?" he asked out loud. I glanced over at him in annoyance.

"Is there any way you can just get _out_ of my head?" I questioned, scowling. He then looked down at the ground.

"I wish I could. I'm sorry to invade your privacy like this," he replied, ashamed. I sighed. _So is reading minds your limit or can you tell me what to think as well?_ He sighed. "I don't know. Who knows what I am capable of? I don't know my limits." I immediately looked at him. _That's dangerous for someone to be that powerful though! You can ruin lives with this so-called "gift" of yours! _"I'm not a bad person, okay?! I don't use this power to take from others, that's not me!" My lips pressed together into a thin line as I thought. _Are there others like you? _"Yeah, I'm pretty sure there are dozens. Maybe even more," he said suddenly no longer in 'ashamed mode'. _Will I ever understand what's happening to me?_ He didn't answer at first, which caused me to worry. "I don't know. It's possible."

"Uh! I can't _believe _I'm having a conversation with you in my head!" I cried, wrinkling my forehead. He grabbed my wrist, twisting me around to face him.

"Shhh! Be careful what you shout out loud," he whispered, furrowing his eyebrows. "Not everyone accepts us Special People."

"Why not?" I asked, ripping my hand away.

"The same reason why they don't accept the idea of aliens or The Loch Ness Monster. People are afraid of what they don't understand," he said sternly, like a parent.

I let out a heavy sigh as we both began walking again. It was silent for a few minutes until I realized how big this truly was. I grabbed his hand, twisting him around to a halt. "Matt, what am I suppose to do now? I've never been more lost in my life. How do I live with this? Tell me what to _do_!" I pleaded desperately. He looked into my eyes deeply, searching for an answer to give me. It felt almost too personal, him looking into my eyes. I've always felt vulnerable and exposed when people do that. I looked down. _Just tell me what to do. I don't think I can do this by myself. _

He shook his head repeatedly. "I want nothing more in the world than to give you a helpful answer, I do. But I'm hardly the person to be asking. I have no clue what I'm doing here. I'm just as lost as you only I have millions of people constantly in my head." I blinked a few times then shut my eyes for a long moment. I opened them again. I saw the same things. I let go of his hand and walked away. I walked until the soles of my feet ached with deep pain that sharpened with each step. I passed my apartment and kept walking. I never stopped. I never looked behind me once. Meeting Matt Parkman made me aware of only one thing. I had to find answers. I had to find someone, anyone who knew about this sudden change in me. Who could help me get rid of it or at the very least help me understand how to control it. I needed answers.

I couldn't recall a time where I stayed up the whole night. Usually when I go home and get into bed, I'm out like a light. Although I guess this newly discovered information about myself is reason enough to not sleep. The sun was high up into the sky now and shining brightly. Car horns were blaring in the distance and there were people skittering about everywhere. It was New York. None of these observations surprised me. I looked up from my shoes long enough to realize that I was in the nicer part of the city. The buildings were nicer to look at with prettier architectural design, the sidewalks had little to no cracks in them. _I did walk a long way._ I walked by an equally pretty library while I was mindlessly babbling on in my head when I stopped. Maybe there's an explanation somewhere in a book. _It's highly unlikely I'm the only one this has happened to. Maybe someone wrote about it. _Deciding to check it out, I walked up the steps into the library. After searching familiar subjects on one of the unoccupied computers, I made a small discovery. _Activating Evolution_, I read in my head. I ran to the section, my eyes scanning over each book until I found it, wedged in between two other bulky, ugly books and grabbed it eagerly. Cracking it open quickly, I began reading a random passage. _Genes determine obesity; blood pressure. Out of the thirty billion possibilities, one might contain the potential for human flight… _I raised my eyebrows as I thought about that.

I walked down the street, flipping through the book's fairly new pages, reading entries that might involve what's happening to me. This is something else. Everything in this book makes perfect sense. I was coming up onto a deserted play ground that, again, was in better shape than the ones I usually see. And although the shiny new swings and monkey bars would normally catch my gaze, there was a bigger distraction, catching my particular attention.

A young man in his early twenties was standing on a set of monkey bars with his arms spread out as if they were wings. He stared off into the distance and in one quick motion he allowed himself to fall off the playground equipment, face first, into the dirt. My eyes widened in surprise. _What the heck? _He then got up and brushed himself off before climbing back up on top of the monkey bars and taking the same position, ready to fall again. Gravity took its toll on him as he landed in the dirt pile. He began to get up and resume this practice when I decided to speak, after slipping the book into my bag.

"Uh… sir?" he stopped in his tracks and looked up at me, noticing me for the first time. "I don't really mean to interrupt your little," my fingers swirled in a circle, making an invisible tornado as I spoke, "whatever, but I just have to ask, what on _earth_ are you doing?" I questioned, putting extra emphasis on the last word in my sentence. He looked down, almost embarrassed.

"You'll laugh if I tell you my true intentions so should I just save us both time and say all of those falls were accidents?" he murmured, taking an uneasy step forward.

I blew air out of my nose.

"Well, I've always believed that honesty was the best policy," I replied, squinting my eyes. "Plus, I'm mostly curious. I don't exactly see something like this every day. Hence, why I asked."

He chuckled lightly, tucking his dark bangs behind his ear.

"Okay. You asked for it," he sighed and took a few more small steps my way. "Have you ever felt like you were meant to do something in your life?" he asked out of nowhere.

I pursed my lips as I chewed on this question.

"Well, I've had many dreams in my life, but obviously I'm not meant to do any of them considering my life now," I answered honestly.

"What if one day you wake up and realize that suddenly you have a purpose. You're not just floating by in life, doing what you want, but you have a reason to be here. Something incredibly big happens to you," he exclaimed. _That rings a bell. _

"How big are we talkin' here?" I questioned, tilting my head.

He stared at me for a moment before answering. "Life-changing big." _Life-changing? Well there was the whole "propelling invisible forces out of my body and knocking out a potential murderer" thing. And sure, I saved Matt. Whatever._ I took in a short breath. "Yeah… I guess I have felt that way… once or twice… recently," I mumbled quietly, almost to myself, though I know he heard me.

His eyebrows knitted together as he took a few more steps toward me.

"Really? Like what?" he inquired, obviously interested in my side of the matter.

I opened my mouth before speaking.

"Well what does all of this have to do with you?" I pressed, shooting another question his way. I'm not cracking just yet. He's obviously hiding something too.

His eyes were softer now.

"I feel like… I'm at that point in my life as well," he leaned in closer, like he was telling me a secret, "Things have been happening to me. Things I can't explain. Things I don't understand." My heart skipped once, twice, three times. _That rings a bell. _

I lowered my voice before speaking.

"Me too."

His eyes were wide now, but with excitement.

"Like what?" I was scared. I was actually heart rate-accelerating, beaded-sweat-on-my-forehead scared. _If I tell him and it's not the same situation, then I'm crazy and he's running in the opposite direction. But. If it's similar then I'm one step closer in finding my answers._ I weighed my options. My eyes narrowed and I took a breath. I avoided his eyes for what I said next.

"I knocked out a man without even touching him." His brain processed the information and he tried to look at me in the face, though I wasn't looking up just yet.

"What?"

"I was working at a diner, behind the counter one night. A guy came in with a gun asking for the money from the register and I knocked him out without making any kind of physical contact." He was still confused so I decided to elaborate. This was the first time I looked at him. "I got sad, I got angry, my emotions were everywhere. I was scared and… the next thing I knew, there was this… invisible energy force that burst from inside of me and hit him with so much strength that it knocked him unconscious." He was quiet for a long moment. He was thinking. Trying to understand. He then abruptly met my eyes and smiled.

"You're special! You have powers! Like me!" he whispered frantically, grabbing both of my arms.

My eyebrows raised and I let out a breath of relief.

"Really? That's so great! I expected you to think I was crazy," I replied, shaking my head slowly.

"No, no! The reason why I was stepping off the monkey bars was because I was trying to fly! I've flown before, but I don't know how to make it happen. I just know it did," he explained. "I had a dream about it and then I was around my brother who can fly and then I flew when I was with him. It just happened!" he spoke excitedly.

My smile faded a little.

"So you don't know how to control it either?" I questioned.

His voice became serious.

"Not yet. But I'll figure it out."

"That great," I said, slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "Because I was hoping to find someone who could help me and… then I run into you and it's like destiny or something." I let out a small chuckle. "I was hoping if you could… try. To help me, that is." I then remembered my small discovery and removed it from my bag, holding it up for him to see. "Plus, I think this might help a bit too."

He wrinkled his forehead, taking the book from my hands and examining it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A book." I replied, a small grin on my face. He glanced up at me with a "You-really-just-said that?" look and I chuckled, continuing to speak. "It was written by a man named Chandra Suresh. He's a genetics professor in India. In fact," I said, taking the book back and flipping through pages, "I marked a page that I saw back at the library. It pertains to your ability, Peter," I continued, finding the dog-eared page, marking the human flight sentence. "Right here. Read," I commanded, pointing to it. His eyes moved over the words quickly and his face lit up.

"This guy knows what he's talking about," he replied, excitedly.

"I know!" was all I said, smiling along with him. He flipped through the book, looking for more to help him. I made a face and opened my mouth yet again. "So… you'll try to help me?" I asked in a small, child-like voice.

He glanced back up at me, his expression full of concern.

"I'll try my best to help." My smile grew quickly. "Oh, and by the way, I'm Peter. Peter Petrelli." He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I took it, gripping it firming and replied, "Nora Tate." I let go and he spoke again.

"So what was it that released this invisible force?" he queried, crossing his arms.

"I think it was my emotions, I mean, I was so angry at that man for doing what he did. Putting someone's life in danger for petty money. I just got frustrated that I couldn't do anything and it just… happened," I tried to explain.

"Maybe you could try to remember those feelings, feeling so helpless. You could try to channel that and use it," he said. I nodded, slowly, my face stone cold with seriousness. I turned away from him and closed my eyes. I tried to focus all of my energy at the swing set. I groaned in concentration, trying to make it work. I let out a big breath, sighing, when nothing happened.

"It's not working…" I mumbled numbly. Peter frowned.

"Try again. Put yourself into the situation again," he took a step further, standing behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders, "Close your eyes and let it happen." I obeyed his command and my eyelids shut. Flashes of two weeks ago came clearly into my mind and my eyelids tightened nervously. _The useless feeling, unable to save Matt or myself… the deep sadness for Matt's family… the pure, blind fury towards the man for what he was going to do…_ I concentrated so hard, my head was hurting. The feeling was creeping back up. I could feel the large amount of power at my fingertips. It built and built until it was nearly impossible to control. I screamed and let it go, like letting a spring go after pushing it together tightly with my fingers.

Opening my eyes, I immediately notice a difference in the playground equipment. The swing set was dented so badly, it was lopsided. I also realized that Peter's hands weren't on my shoulders anymore. I whirled around to look at Peter, only to find him on the ground about five feet away from me, a stunned look painted on his face. "Wow," was all he said for a few moments. I gawked at him as he slowly rose to his feet, brushing himself off yet again. "You are special."

I let out a short breath, trying to hide my smile. _The way he said that makes it feel like a compliment. _He smiled widely and it was at that moment that I first noticed his truly crooked smile. However, as soon as it came, it vanished. Peter was staring at his hands in horror. "I feel weird," he murmured.

My eyebrows pulled together. "Weird how?"

"I don't know, like… taking in a large breath before letting it out only… it's ten times more powerful," he explained frantically. My eyes got larger as I stared. _That's what it felt like before I knocked down that man. How is that possible? …Wait, Peter said that his brother could fly and when he was around him, he could fly too. Does that mean he can use anyone's power?_ "Nora!" Peter screamed, breaking off my train of thought. "Nora, run! I can't control it, I feel like I'm gonna explode! _Run_!" Before my legs had time to do anything, I was suddenly pushed backward, several yards away from Peter at an impressive speed. I landed hard on the pavement though at the time I didn't even feel it. The wind was forced out of my lungs and I felt like I was being crushed by four semi trucks put together. For what seemed like hours, I laid there, unable to move.

I could hear Peter's voice calling out my name, but it was only a small echo. It was like being in a Limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness. My mouth wouldn't move, my fingers wouldn't move. I could only see the blue sky in spurts. I tried to focus, but I only moved even further into darkness, like the end of a Looney Tunes episode. I was gone.

**Review? *sadface* You probably should… it's an option… ya know, if you feel like it. Maybe. ^-^**


	3. Chapter 3: Heightened Paranoia

**Yeah… I updated again, I know. I'm just eager to get what I have posted. I actually have chapter four done also and am literally working on five right now. Hopefully someone out there is somewhat interested in this story and if not, I guess I'll always have it for my own happiness. So for those out there who kinda, sorta like it so far, this chapter is for you. **

_Chapter Three: Heightened Paranoia_

You know how some mornings you'll wake up and forget where you were or what happened before you fell asleep? How agitated you are, trying to rack your brain and remember exactly what was done or said? How sometimes it's even frightening because in some cases you wake up and you soon come to understand that you've never seen your surroundings before? I never had… until then. I regained consciousness slowly, which agitated me even more. I opened my eyes, trying to focus in on everything, but the room was spinning slightly making things even more annoying. I sat up clumsily, pressing my palm to the side of my head. I felt hung over, though I knew I hadn't drank anything. I looked around me, dazed. _I've never seen this room before…_ I grabbed underneath my legs to find a bed comforter. _This isn't mine…_ I took note the nice suit hanging in the room. _That's not mine…_ I rose to my feet quickly. _What happened? Why did I fall asleep? Did I pass out?_ I then heard foot steps heading towards the room and I grabbed the lamp from the bedside table. "Stay where you are!" I demanded, standing in a crouched position, preparing to fight. The door creaked open wide enough to reveal Peter standing in the hallway, a glass of water in his hand.

"Nora, what are you doing?" my eyes widened and I loosened my grip on the lamp.

"Peter? … Where am I?" I asked, confused. He walked into the room and set the glass of water down on the table.

"My apartment," he explained, taking the lamp from my hands and putting it back in it's rightful place. "You were knocked out."

"Oh." My memory suddenly rushed back into my mind and I remembered. I demonstrated my power then… I looked up at him. "You used my power _against_ me!" I cried, pointing an accusing finger at him.

He immediately got defensive. "No! Well… yeah, I guess I did, but it was an accident. I didn't know how to control it. I told you, I copy people. I can copy Nathan's flying and now… I can copy your invisible force… thing."

I stood there for a minute, dumbly. I looked around the room again, this time with curiosity. _So this is Peter Petrelli's room._ I then realized I had work. I looked at the clock. _1:33 pm. _"Crap! I have to go!" I uttered, running out of the bedroom door, brushing passed him swiftly.

"Wait," he called after me, following behind. "Where are you going?" he pried, looking confused. I hopped on one foot while hurriedly shoving my other foot into my shoe until they were both securely on.

"I have work. I can't miss any more days this month, my boss'll lock me in the meat freezer or.. something," I replied, stuttering at the last part.

"I thought you wanted my help," he replied, continuing to follow me as I stumbled around the apartment.

"Uh, I do! I do, but I really have to go," I said while shrugging into my jacket.

"Well, here," he murmured back, leaning over the counter and scribbling something down. I raised an eyebrow as he turned around and handed me a tiny piece of paper. On it had his name along with a phone number. "That's how to reach me," he told me, pointing at the paper.

I nodded.

"Right. Cool. I'll see you later then." I smiled up at him before walking quickly to the door. Opening it, I turned around to face him again, "It was great meeting you, Peter. Now I don't feel so much like a freak." He chuckled, showing his crooked-mouth smile which made my smile wider. "Goodbye."

I ran into the front entrance of the restaurant, causing the tiny bell hanging above the door to go crazy. My boss was in the kitchen when he poked his head out the window to murmur, "You're late, Nora. Again." I sighed, knowing this was exactly what I was going to hear.

"I'm sorry. I had an emergency," I replied, taking off my jacket and walking behind the counter.

"Ya know, this is the third time this month you've been late," he informed me. _As if I didn't already know. _

"It really was important. I swear, it won't happen again," I vowed, clipping on my name tag.

"Let's hope so," was his only reply as he continued his business in the kitchen. The day drug on forever as I took order after order and served person after person. Fortunately, I didn't have to close this evening and was getting off at five. As I served my last person, I walked back to the counter, called out a 'goodbye' to the boss while retrieving my jacket and left the diner.

I walked home, this time being free of shoulder-tappers and all-night brain rambling. I unlocked the door to my apartment, walked inside, and shut it promptly, locking it behind me. This new life of mine came complete with paranoia and constant nausea, Tylenol not included. I finally was able to change out of my work clothes, grabbing fresh pajamas. Remembering that I had worn the same clothes longer than I should've, I decided to take a shower, making myself feel cleaner, though it did nothing for the nausea. Or the paranoia. Climbing into my own bed, I finally realized how much I missed it. _Although Peter's wasn't too bad. Being around him made me feel like being in a family again. Comfortable. Safe._ As I thought on this subject, I felt my eyelids morph into paper weights and it didn't take long for me to give in and shut them completely. I dozed off for what seemed like a few hours until a large _bang_ scared me awake.

I sat up, looking around my room, searching for the source of the noise, but saw nothing. _Probably just a car door slam or something. _However, as much as I wanted to convince myself that the noise was 'just a car door slam or something', I could feel the paranoia creeping back up, growing in the pit of my stomach. It was ten times worse than it was before. Something wasn't right. I could tell by the way the hairs on my neck stood up and how goose bumps suddenly immerged on my forearms. I reached for the bat at the side of my bed carefully, not looking away from my surroundings. I then felt an abrupt instinct that told me I was not alone.

"Is anyone there?" I called out, almost hearing an echo of my voice because of the loud silence. I heard nothing for a long moment. It was almost eerie. Like the wind suddenly stopping right before a storm occurs. There was nothing, but ambience. Then out of the darkness, a voice immerged followed by a shadow.

"Yes." My heart stopped as I learned that my worst fear was happening. The shadow figure reached out a hand and the next thing I knew, I was flying into the nearest wall with a loud thud. My breathing was erratic as I struggled against the hard surface. … _Why can't I move? How is this happening? _The figure drew closer and I was taking short panicked breaths, trying desperately to get free. _It was happening again. Why was I so helpless that I can't even defend myself? And now I was going to die because this evil shadow figure had me in an impossibly strong invisible grip…. Like my invisible force. _Realizing I had a chance at survival, I put all of my concentration into giving off the invisible force again. _Think about Matt. How I wanted to protect him from the murderer. Remember the gun so easily pointed at you and the man who was killing you for what? A few twenties out of a cash register. And now another mysterious someone is killing you right now! Think about Peter and what he said to you. _

I felt an abrupt pain on my forehead. He was cutting my head opening! Never had I been hurt badly in my life. Just a few bruises and scrapes. I couldn't take it. _What did Peter say? "Close your eyes and let it happen," he told me._ I had no time. Closing my eyes, I ignored my headache, my nausea, my heightened paranoia. I concentrated harder than I ever had before, forming a massive orb of energy. I could feel it, eager and powerful at my fingertips. I let it go, a piercing scream passing my lips as I did so. I was dropped almost immediately, falling to the carpeted floor.

I stared in horror at what appeared to be a lifeless body laying on my bedroom floor. _It worked?! I did it! I saved myself! Holy crap, I did it!_ Rising to my feet shakily, I walked around him tenderly, unsure of how much strength I hit him with. _It must've been a good amount all things considered. _I reached up to the side of my head as I continued to tiptoe around the man's body. Once out of the room, I ran to the closet, practically ripping my jacket off the hanger. I grabbed shoes and a pair of pants I had tossed carelessly on the living room floor three days ago and ran out my door, still in shock at what had just happened to me. And what could've happened. I flagged down the nearest taxi and jumped into the back seat. "Where to, Miss?" asked the driver.

"Far away from here," was my reply as I hunched my back, burrowing into the jacket. I stared out the window, watching the lights blur by, wondering how I was going to explain to my neighbors the dangerous murderer in my apartment. A murderer that strangely enough didn't have any weapons of choice. No gun, no knife, not even a blunt object. _Then how did he cut my forehead_, I thought to myself as I touched the painful area only to find blood on the tips of my index and middle fingers. _Maybe Matt was right. There are more people out there who are "special." People with superhuman powers that can do things like cut through human flesh. _I shivered, imagining myself back in my apartment only moments ago, reliving the terrifying phenomena. Being slammed into my wall. I could barely move. _I think it's safe to say from this experience that not everyone with abilities have good intentions. And who am I to think any different? There's always a bad guy._ I closed my eyes. _But the million-dollar question is "Who is this particular 'bad guy' of which is trying to kill others with abilities?" _

After sitting in the back seat for a while silently, my thoughts started up again. I suppose I should try to call someone. _But who? It's so late. No one would pick up. _I sat for another moment. _Unless… No. No, I am not calling Peter this late. No. _My foot tapped quickly on the floor of the cab. I sighed heavily digging into my jacket pocket, pulling out the piece of paper. I reached for my phone, flipping it open, bringing it to life. I stared at it for another long minute. I bit my lip nervously. Maybe just once. After all, I did almost get murdered. I pressed the green lit up buttons down then pressed it to my ear, hearing the first ring. Then the second. Then third. One last ring. I closed my phone with a snap. _Stupid idea anyway. _

The taxi driver ended up taking me to a deserted park which was good enough for me. I paid him and got out of the cab, shutting the door behind me. Walking along the sidewalk, I kicked a stray rock_. Now what?_ I asked myself, looking around at the lonesome water fountain and the unoccupied wooden benches. I took a seat at one of the benches and buried my face in my hands. Sitting there, all scrunched up on a bench, I suddenly had an idea. Not moving my position other than bring my head up, I concentrated on the swings several yards away from me. I thought back to my previous experiences, trying to focus hard enough to choose how powerful I want my energy force to be. I felt it begin to form. I put all of my concentration into make it appear to be a simple breeze. I just wanted to push the swings from here. Just enough to make them move.

My hands began to shake as I continued to do this. Then, as if a sudden large burst of wind came along, the swings moved rapidly. I just stared at them. _That's hardly what I wanted._ I tried again and again, desperately wanting to have some control over my newly acquired powers. The sun was rising now, and I had to be mindful of any passer bys who might come walking around the corner. My head hurt. A lot. I can't remember a time when my head hurt that bad. Not even comparable to my biggest migraines. However, no matter how much my head pulsed as I tried again, I kept going. Finally, after hours of watching that same rusted swing set, I glanced down to look at my watch. It was 11:22 in the morning.

Deciding I had sat there long enough, I rose to my feet in an effort to leave. I almost fell over with dizziness. It felt like I was spinning on a merry-go-round for two days. Once I regained my balance, I walked out of the park and down the street. _I suppose I could try to call Peter again. This is a little bit of an emergency. _I pulled out my phone and retyped the number in, pressing the 'Talk' button and waiting for a sign that he was up and available. Fortunately for me, after the second ring, someone answered.

"Hello?" Sounded like Peter to me.

"Peter?" I asked dumbly into the phone, pressing my free hand to my other ear.

"Yeah?"

"Um.. It's Nora. We met at the playground, you were trying to fly?" I said into the phone.

"Yeah, yeah, I know who you are. What's up?" he questioned.

"Well… uh, the thing is… I sort of… I have a problem," I stuttered. _Smooth._ "Would you mind if I stopped by?" I asked, biting my lip.

"No, sure. You know where to come?"

"I think so."

"Alright. I guess I'll see you soon then?"

"Yeah. Watch for me." I closed the phone.

Twenty minutes, one taxi ride, and a few set of steps later, there I stood at the door of Peter Petrelli's apartment again. I knocked a few times, standing awkwardly as the door opened immediately.

"Hey," he greeted, leaving the door open far enough for me to walk through. Crossing the threshold, I murmured a quiet 'Hi.'

_It'd be in your best interest if you said something._ I sat there in silence, trying to figure out exactly what to verbalize. _What else is there to say? I was almost killed last night by a mysterious superhuman murderer in my own apartment. I left him there and came here. Surprise! _He stared, patiently, but curiously at my forehead. I opened my mouth. _Perhaps I should just go for a more subtle approach then ease into the horrible things. _"Here's the deal, I was almost murdered last night." _Wow. Not exactly subtle. Do I know the meaning of 'ease'? _His eyes got huge and he spoke hurriedly.

"What?! When?! Who was it?!" He rose to his feet.

"It was late. Really late. I was asleep in my bed. I know I locked my door before falling asleep. Then I heard a noise and he was just there. He threw me against the _wall_!" I explained, using my hands to describe the situation more vividly.

His eyebrows pulled together. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you about this, but…" I trailed off, rubbing the back of my neck. "I-I don't have anyone else." He stood there for a moment before I spoke again. "I guess the most important information here is that this man who broke into my apartment… I'm pretty sure he had abilities too." His head perked up and he gave me a deathly look. "He threw me against the wall, but he didn't even have to touch me. And this-" I pointed to my forehead, "He used his _finger_ for this! If it hadn't been for my power, I would be dead on my floor right now," I mumbled, shaking my head.

He was speechless. "I think he may be targeting people with abilities and killing them," I continued, staring him straight in the eyes. "So you might be in danger too."

**And there you have it, chapter three. Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! =D**


	4. Chapter 4: New Discoveries

**Alright, here is chapter four and I can proudly say that I JUST finished chapter five and it will be up soon. Will start on six when I'm bored sitting around the house which is estimated to be on Monday. Thank you for reviewing and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!**

_Chapter Four: New Discoveries_

We arrived at an apartment building where Chandra Suresh was suppose to live, according the people from Peter's brother's campaign. Peter thought it would be best if we tried to find him first which was fine with me. Obviously. I stood behind me as he re-checked the address that was given to him. "This is it," he mumbled, looking back at me.

I eyed the door curiously. "Our answers could be on the other side of this door," I said, giving a hopeful smile. His mouth barely pulled up at the corner. He turned back around to the door and knocked. I waited there, bouncing, hoping someone was inside. Peter knocked again then called, "I'm looking for Chandra Suresh," through the door. We both stood there in silence, waiting for a response. Then we heard a young woman speak. "He doesn't live here anymore."

Peter looked back down at me before replying.

"The guys at the Petrelli campaign gave me this address, they said he came by this morning," he said. I fidgeted in my spot, looking down at my shoes. _Surely he's here. _I then heard the door open suddenly and I looked up. A man stood at the entrance, eyeing Peter before glancing at me briefly. He had dark skin and even darker hair. He stared at us with caution. "You Chandra Suresh?" Peter asked the man, pointing his way with the book.

"No. That was my father," he replied simply.

"Yeah…um," Peter pushed his hair behind his ear, looking down. "Your father wrote, uh, a book about people with… abilities? I think.. I may be one of them. _We_ may be," he replied, gesturing to himself and then me. The man stared at him for a long moment before letting us into the slightly beat-up room. Peter spoke with the man for a few minutes, of which I quickly learned went by the name of Mohinder, trying to explain our situation. After that, the man and the young woman we heard through the door walked off into the next room. I heard muffled whispers, but couldn't decipher their words.

"You think they believe us?" I whispered to him as he waited.

"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't, my brother didn't believe me at first and he knew he could fly," he shot back, shrugging. They then walked back into the room and the woman spoke first.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Peter stood, listening intently. "Good luck with the whole flying thing," she said, shaking his hand. I followed suit and also rose to my feet. She also shook my hand, to be polite, I guessed.

Peter only mumbled a quiet "Thanks" as she left the apartment, leaving the three of us alone. Mohinder sat down and Peter sat with him.

"So… when you're with your brother, you can fly and when you're with the artist-"

"Isaac," Peter clarified. "Yeah. I only met him once, but after, I drew the future."

"And now you can't do either?" he asked, shaking his head. He didn't believe Peter by the way he spoke.

"Maybe I can only do things when I'm around other people who can… do things," he tried, sounding confused himself. The man just smirked. Peter shook his head. "Did that sound as lame as I think it did?"

"It _sounds_ like you should be talking to my father," he replied dryly. "This is _his _research, not mine."

"Well, where is he? How do I get a hold of him?" he inquired desperately.

"He's on the table," Mohinder said smoothly, motioning with his head. Peter was taken aback by his statement and looked at me before looking behind him at the table. I also did so, spying an urn. My eyebrows pulled together slowly and I looked back at the man, his stone-like expression still on his face.

"I'm so sorry," I blurted out, leaning closer. He looked at me for the first time in minutes. His eyes showed no expression. I grabbed the book from Peter. "But you believe this is possible, right?" I questioned, still looking at him.

"Yeah, you have to believe it. You believed it this morning," Peter uttered. We all sat in silence at first until Peter spoke again. "What if I prove it to you?" he asked, suddenly hatching an idea.

"Then prove it," he said simply. _He doesn't believe us at all. This is pointless. _

Peter rose to his feet and paced a few times. He looked at me. I stared at him with wide eyes. Peter's eyes suddenly changed, a look I was familiar with. I grabbed Mohinder's arm. "Get up!" I demanded. He looked at me with a questioning look. "He's using my ability. Last time that happened, I was knocked unconscious for hours. Come _on_!" I said, pulling him to his feet and away from Peter. "Peter! Focus, okay?" He was afraid, I could tell. "Channel whatever you're creating to an object. Something. Anything!" Mohinder stood there, watching Peter with wide eyes as Peter groaned in concentration. "Let it go _now_!" I cried, pushing the man even further back behind me. Peter screamed immediately after I spoke. It was so surreal, watching Peter do this and knowing exactly how it felt. The couch was flung across the room and against the wall as well as many other objects in the room, not that I could've blamed him. I could barely control it yet myself. But at that very moment, a table came at us with great speed. There was no time to do anything. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and stretched my arms out in front of me. Then… silence. _Why didn't a table take my legs out from under me? _

I opened my eyes slowly, the lids almost aching with pain. I glanced at my feet to find a broken table. My eyes moved to my hands, of which were glowing a bright light. From my hands, I looked around me to find what appeared to be a dome, enveloping Mohinder and I safely. It was also glowing brightly. _What the… _I looked at Peter who only gawked at me. I looked back at Mohinder who also stared at me with horror. "This is new," I murmured, gazing at the beautiful creation. I walked to the edge carefully, touching it with my palm. _Rock solid. No, tougher, thicker than rock. Like diamond. _"It's like a force field," I explained, motioning for him to come closer. He took uneasy steps toward me, obviously afraid. He knocked on it.

"Amazing," was all he could utter, gazing it in appreciation.

"How did you do that?" Peter asked in disbelief.

I shook my head. "I have _no_ idea." I closed my eyes, in attempt to disengage my newly discovered power. Within seconds, the dome evaporated into the air, like it had never been there. Taking uncertain steps toward Peter, I gazed around me in awe. My eyes gradually landed back on Mohinder as he stood a few feet away from us. "Believe us now?" I asked him, almost smug. The very next thing that happened was strange. Out of nowhere, Peter was on the other side of the room, crying out "Hiro" and "I don't understand." I took a double take at him. "Peter? What are you doing?" I questioned, confused.

"A man came here! He froze time!" he cried, pacing around frantically.

"What?" Mohinder asked, in a disbelieving tone.

"A man froze time and teleported in here! He was right _there_!" he explained, pointing at the floor in front of him.

"And then, what? He teleported away?" Mohinder queried, dryly.

"Yes! H-he stopped time somehow and talked to me. He knew who I was! He said we all meet up somehow, sometime in the future, I guess." he continued. Mohinder just shook his head as I watched Peter try to explain himself. _Is teleportation and time travel even possible? What am I thinking? I can creating force fields and shoot them at people with my mind. _"It seems crazy, but I know what I saw!" Peter uttered, tucking his bangs behind his ear. "He said something bad is gonna happen," he said, looking at me, "but we can stop it. But first…" he trailed off and sighed heavily, letting out a light chuckle. "First we have to save a cheerleader," he finished, obviously realizing how stupid his words sounded.

"A cheerleader?" Mohinder repeated, smiling at the word.

"A cheerleader?" I repeated, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"This seems impossible, I know-" Peter agreed.

"Impossible? It sounds mad!" Mohinder interrupted.

"It doesn't make any sense," I added, shaking my head.

"Please, just…" He paused, closing his eyes. "He said I had to go back to see Isaac, the painter. He's gonna know what we have to do so let's go to his loft!" he suggested, enthusiastically. Mohinder just stared at Peter blankly. "If the answers aren't there, then I promise you, I will drive you to the airport myself. You can go back to India and you _never_ have to hear from me again," he pleaded.

Mohinder stood there quietly for a moment. I stared at both of them.

"Will you fly me there yourself?" he asked, rhetorically. Peter only stared with wide eyes. "There are no answers. Go home, Peter." With that, Mohinder walked away from us and further into the apartment. Peter stood still where he was.

"Peter?" He gazed down at me, meeting my eyes with his own, clearly thinking he had failed. My own eyes shifted to his shirt. "Let's just go." I grabbed his hand and lead the way out of the apartment, down the stairs and out of the building. Rain was pouring down from the sky in big, fat drops. I flagged down a taxi cab. "Now what?" I asked, sliding into the far side of the back seat, Peter directly behind me, shutting the door. He told the driver an address before glancing back at me.

"We're going to Isaac's loft," he replied simply, looking out the window beside him. He sounded depressed. Or disappointed. But, somehow, determined. Determined to prove that he wasn't just seeing or hearing things.

"And you're sure this is what we're suppose to do?" I asked. My scared-little-girl face was perfectly placed upon features, though I didn't bother hiding it like I normally would. He looked back to me again, his eyes confident and serious.

"Positive. I can feel it," he assured, nodding. Another silence.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I should've told Mohinder about the man who tried to kill me?"

"Honestly… I don't think anything would've changed his mind about not helping. He obviously wasn't interested in staying here. He just wanted to go home," he shrugged, shaking his head. After deciding I had asked enough questions, I sat back in an attempt to get comfortable.

We eventually reached our destination. Another words, the infamous Isaac's loft. I slammed the taxi door behind me and shoved my hands deep into my pockets as Peter walked up to the entrance of a rather homely loft. He knocked a few times. "Hello? I-Isaac?" he called into the loft, walking in quietly. I followed at his heels, curiously taking in the dark room. There were paintings strewn about everywhere. Peter walked up to a dark figure at a sink. "Doing okay?" he asked, concerned. I trailed behind cautiously.

"Go away, man," was all I heard from the dark-haired man as he continued to face the window.

"Isaac, I need your help," Peter said.

There was a pause before the painter spoke.

"You need help? Ask Simone…" Peter's head fell as he heard this. "You already took her. What else do you want from me?" he questioned emotionlessly. My head tilted. _Who's Simone?_

Peter took a step forward. "You painted me. A picture of me flying. Okay? It happened. It was real. I flew."

"Congratulations." I shook my head, agitated. _What was this guy's problem? Why is everyone so bitter towards Peter? _

"I'm telling you that I believe you," Peter said through his teeth, walking ever closer to the mysterious Isaac. "You can paint the future."

Isaac finally turned around, meeting Peter's gaze and pointing at him. At first I thought he was going to say something, but then he just walked over to a table, trying to focus on something else and ignoring Peter.

"Listen, whatever's happening to you, is happening to me too. It's happening to a lot of people," Peter said, motioning towards me. "And I don't know why, but I'm suppose to.. see you. You're suppose to have the answer," he continued, watching the man as he fumbled around, keeping himself busy.

"Is that what, um… I sound like?" he asked, his eyes shifting from object to object on the table in front of him. He scoffed, shaking his head. "No wonder she left me… I don't have any answers," he replied finally, giving up trying to ignore him.

"You're suppose to know where I have to go," Peter murmured, confused.

"See for yourself," he mumbled, not looking up from the table. Peter slowly backed away from Isaac and began walking around the room, scanning his surroundings. He went from painting to painting, hoping to find something, anything to give him a sign of what he's suppose to do. I took a few uneasy steps further into the room. The painter, finally realizing Peter wasn't the only visitor, glanced up at me briefly before watching Peter as he made his way around the loft. Peter stood in front of one painting that had a beautiful likeness to an eclipse and lifted it up, trying to see the painting behind it. Once seeing it, he let out a breath.

"Nora," Peter called, without looking away from the painting. My feet thumped under me on the floor as I walked across the room to Peter. He pulled the eclipse painting back further, revealing the painting behind it. My eyes met the piece of art and widened as I realized what the picture was of. "It's her," Peter whispered as I gazed, hypnotized by the shades of red, blue, and gray and what appeared to be a cheerleader running from someone. A large black shadow was cast over a good amount of the painting, representing the cheerleader's pursuer.

"The cheerleader," I whispered, in disbelief. "She _is_ real."

Peter began to set up the paintings in a certain order. I watched in confusion. "Peter, what are you doing?" I asked.

"This is just so amazing. Look, it's telling a story like a comic," he said, pointing at the arrangement of paintings and smiling. "This girl, she's running and…" he looked closely at one of them. "Is that me?" he questioned, looking over at Isaac.

"Why would I paint you?" he shot back bitterly, not looking at Peter.

Peter looked back at the paintings. "These two guys," he muttered. "I think we're all trying to help her," he suggested. "The cheerleader… who is she?" he asked suddenly, walking over to Isaac.

"I don't know," was all he said in reply.

"Yeah, but you painted all of these," I chimed in, walking up on his right side.

"I was high," he explained, barely even glancing at me, almost as if being ashamed to admit it.

"So what happens next? Where is she?" Peter pried, stepping closer.

"I was high!" he exclaimed, before being taken over by a series of coughs. He then got up from his seat. "I could've been clean. I tore myself apart. I lost Simone trying to find an answer. Trying to stop it. All I got was this garbage," he explained, scoffing. "Some cheerleader. Nothing. I ruined my life for nothing."

"It's not nothing," Peter interrupted, turning back to Isaac. "Look, don't you get it? Everything's connected, we are all connected. This thing that you painted, if this bomb is true, we're all _dead_. These are the key to saving us!" Peter cried, gesturing towards the series of paintings. Isaac, finally hearing what Peter was saying, really looked at him for the first time. "Something's gonna happen to this girl. We need know what. You have to finish this, you have to finish the painting," Peter insisted, pointing at the half finished painting sitting on an easel.

"Even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm out of drugs, I'm out of money to buy drugs," Isaac mumbled, hopelessly. I took note of the emotion in his voice, considering there was none in it before.

"Can't you finish it without shooting up?" Peter inquired, desperate. We were so close, I could feel it at my finger tips, taste it at the tip of my tongue. The answers were in that white canvas somewhere.

"If you got some cash on you, man, that's another story. I can call it commission." Peter sighed in frustration, walking in front of the unfinished painting. _So close, so far_. Isaac stared at Peter as Peter stared at the canvas, scratching his head in thought. I walked up next to Peter as his facial expression changed from concentration into one that made it look like he had come up with a solution.

"I saw it," he said quietly, surprised.

"What?" Isaac asked, succeeding in sounding bored.

"I… I saw something in the canvas, the picture," Peter replied, grabbing a paint brush and paint. "This painting-" Peter exclaimed, pointing, "I can finish it!" My heart skipped a beat. _Of course! He's around Isaac therefore he can plaint the future! He can find the answer. I don't know why I didn't think of it before._

"You can paint?" Isaac queried, shocked.

"No. No, I can't. But I drew the future after I saw you the other day. It was only stick figures, but it came true," he finished, his tone hopeful.

"You have the answer all along, Pete!" I exclaimed happily, smiling. He turned to me briefly, his half-smile showing before turning back to the painting. He looked at it, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Isaac and I watched as Peter's eyes closed only to open again, changed. His eyes were completely white I suddenly discovered, jumping slightly at the sight of him. Peter's hand began moving quickly as the painting that was doomed to remain a mystery slowly began to look more and more complete. I bit my lip nervously. _Please, let this lead us to an answer. _I merely stood aside, gazing upon my extraordinary new friend, Peter as he painted the future. A painting that may either aid us in saving a certain cheerleader's life or spell or doom. My eyes glance over at the painting Peter had previously showed me, gazing at the tall, dark figure who would kill her if we didn't stop it. _Why does it remind me of…_

**Thanks for taking time out of your lives to read my story! I appreciate it so much and I hope you guys like it. :DDD**


	5. Chapter 5: What's To Come

**Let's cut to the chase. **

**I haven't posted in a while. Hope you all enjoy. **

**Sorry it took so long.**

_Chapter Five: What's To Come_

I eyed the painting suspiciously. _Could it be that this is the exact same person who tried to kill me in my apartment? _My eyebrows pulled together in thought. _So that would mean that there's a good chance the cheerleader is special too. And he's tracking her down to murder her. But why? Why are we a threat to this dark figure? _I sighed heavily and looked behind me at Isaac who was gawking rather intently at Peter as he silently painted a few feet away.

"I assume you don't know who this person is either..." I muttered dully, pointing to the dark shadow, "Because you were high."

He ripped his eyes away from Peter and clamped them on me in a deadly serious manner. "Your assumption is correct," he replied just as dryly, walking over to where I was standing.

"Well, that's a shame... considering this man just might be hunting down people with abilities and killing them brutally, without a trace of mercy," I said coolly, crossing my arms across my chest.

"What makes you think that's accurate?" he inquired, turning slightly to me. I immediately turned to face him.

"I have no doubt that this man was the same dark figure who broke into my apartment last night and tried to murder me on my wall," I said in a low, dangerous voice. He only stared at me. "He has abilities. He can move objects with his mind... he pinned me up on my wall and was able to cut open my head with his_ finger,_" I told him with wide eyes, pushing aside my bangs to reveal the wound on my forehead. He continued to stare, though his expression turned to a slightly more panicked one. "We have to find this guy, figure out his weakness, and take him down. Otherwise, he'll just have more opportunities to kill innocent people... like that cheerleader." I tossed my thumb back at the painting.

"How are we suppose to find him? We don't know what he even looks like! We have a shadow figure in a painting I made. That's it. It's impossible," he argued, looking down. _No. I don't want an excuse. I want answers._

I shook my head. "Are you actually _serious_, this is you being serious right now?! Wake up and smell the freshly brewed reality! You can paint the future and I can make force fields and throw them at people! Now if those things aren't completely and insanely impossible then I don't know what is... but somehow we can do them. And if we can do those things then we can certainly find this guy," I cried dramatically.

"Alright..." he gave in. "How do we do that then, genius?" he asked.

I stood there for a moment, thinking it through. I sighed.

"I'm not sure. But I"m not about to grab a white flag, wave it in the air, and wait for him to come for me a second time. I don't know, maybe Peter can help somehow."

He scoffed.

"Yeah."

I narrowed my eyes.

"I'm sorry, am I mistaken or did someone shove a stick up your hind quarters? What is your problem with Peter?" I questioned defensively.

He was obviously taken off guard by my sudden bitterness.

"... I don't want to talk about it,"he mumbled, walking away.

I stood silently for a moment, thinking.

"Does it have to do with those Simone person?" I pressed curiously, turning around and taking a step in the direction he walked.

"I said I _don't_ want to talk about it." This was the very first time his stern attitude was aimed specifically at me. I rolled my eyes. _Guy drama. If only Matt was here. _I then suddenly remembered him, wondering what he was doing and if he was alright. I then realized that he could be in danger, thinking back to the horrific night at my apartment. _This dark figure man could be planning to go after Matt too. _

"Isaac! Nora!" I was broken away from my own thoughts when I heard Peter's voice, sudden and unfamiliar, considering he had been quiet for several minutes. I ran back to what used to be the unfinished painting, standing somewhat behind Peter and let a small gasp pass my lips. My eyes then widened at what I saw in front of me. The portion of the canvas that was once blank now had a vivid picture of a certain cheerleader who had the top of her head gruesomely cut off, causing her to bleed to death. My expression changed to one of horror and disgust. "Oh... my..." was all I could verbalize. _That could've been me._

"We have to save her," Isaac said suddenly, as if he actually cared about the situation currently at hand. The phone then began to ring loudly, making me jump. "Ignore it. It's a wrong number. Some Japanese guy keeps calling and leaving messages." And then as if the information Isaac told Peter was confirmation, he strode over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?" he said into the phone, his voice low. There was a brief silence. "Who is this?" Another silence. "My name is Peter Petrelli. I have a message for you," he continued. Silence. "Save the cheerleader, save the world." _Wait a second. Is this the answer we needed? Is this the answer we were waiting for, the answer Peter was promised when the suppose time traveling man visited him?_Isaac and I shared a quick glance before he walked over to meet Peter at the phone. "W-what cheerleader? Where?" he asked hurriedly, looking to Isaac for help. I turned away from them only to glance back at the dead cheerleader painted before me, bleeding profusely out of her head, the scene unchanged and scarred in my mind for good. I shivered.

"I don't know where she is," he replied, without a clue. I pursed my lips, annoyed at the situation. _Of course you don't._

"Yeah, but you painted these," he said insistantly, taking a short glance around the room. I couldn't help, but think a sarcastic "And you didn't", but couldn't bring myself to say it. Fortunately, though, I didn't have to.

Isaac only stared at him before replying, "So did you." Peter turned back to the phone. "We don't know who she is, we don't know where she is. We just know we need to save her," Peter said into the phone. I tapped my foot anxiously, waiting as patiently as I could to understand what was going on.

"Tell him about the guy from the future," Isaac suggested, attempting to be useful.

"He _is_ the guy from the future," Peter muttered back.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Really?" Peter just looked at me with a blank expression. "...That's wicked," I mumbled to myself, impressed.

Peter sighed and began to speak into the phone again.

"Hiro Nakamura from the future who speaks English and carries a sword stopped time to tell me that I have to save the cheerleader. That's all I know." Another silence filled the room. "Get to New York. We'll find out where the cheerleader is." With that said, Peter ended the call and put the phone down. He then walked back to the large painting of the murdered cheerleader and grabbed it.

"Grave that side. We must be missing something. Some sign of where they are. You see these paintings, they fit together like pages in a comic," Peter spoke quickly as they both lifted and moved the painting over with the others that Peter has set up previously. "There's a panel missing. What was right there?" he questioned, pointing at the empty space.

"Nothing. This is everything I painted last night. But there is a piece about that size I painted a few weeks ago..." he trailed off, trying to remember where it could be. He then sighed. "Simone has it." _There's that name again..._ He just stared at Peter.

"Simone?" Peter asked.

"She took a bunch of my paintings to sell," he explained, looking back up at the space. "It's with them."

"What was it of?" Peter asked anxiously, staring Isaac down intently. _There's that determination again._ He tried to think of any kind of details, but only let out a breath of frustration. I can't remember, I was high!" _He's beginning to sound like that stupid song. I was gonna remember how a painting looked that may be the key to saving many lives, but then I got high..._

"Then we need to get it back," Peter said simply, walking away from us.

"Oh, a guy from the future said he needed it. I"m sure she'll love that," Isaac replied sarcastically. _This broad sure does sound close-minded. _Peter picked up the phone and dialed a number before putting it to his ear again.

The mysterious Simone didn't end up answering the phone so Peter decided to leave a message and, if necessary, call again later, in hopes of finding the missing painting. In the cab on the way back to his apartment, Peter sat in silence, his head on the back of the seat and his eyes closed. _Perhaps I can find a few answers right now._ "So..." I began, breaking the strong silence. "Just out of pure curiosity, who exactly is this Simone?" I questioned innocently. _And how is she important? Why does Isaac looked crushed whenever he talks about her? _Peter opened his eyes.

"She's a friend," he said simply.

I raised my eyebrows.

"So if she's only a friend then why does Isaac hate you?"

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Because... she broke up with him and... I've sort of... been in love with her ever since I first met her," he explained. _Obviously not one of his favorite topics._

My eyes narrowed as I fought to keep the scoff from passing my lips.

"Ya know, I never understood how someone can fall in love with someone else when they don't even know them. I mean, what if the person turns out to be a complete jerk with no personality? Sure, it's pleasing to the ears when someone tells you they've been in love with you all along, but there's always going to be that little tiny bit of doubt hanging in the back of your mind that's whispering just barely loud enough for you to hear, 'Did he really love me from the start... or was it just another lie?'" He stared at me from the corner of his eye. "Oh yeah. You'd be surprised at the percentage of people who sugar coat things to make it more appealing. It's... something else," I finished with a matter-of-factly tone, nodding.

He lifted his head off the seat and continued to stare.

"Are you suggesting that I'm lying about how I feel?" he asked, somewhat offended.

"No, no, not at all. I am just merely... stating my opinion on this particular subject. I mean, if you love her, you're acute aware of it, and confident enough in that fact then you should definitely tell her that," I replied, backtracking a little. _I don't want him mad at me..._

"Well, I kind of... already did. Tell her, that is," he uttered, shrugging.

I grinned.

"What's she say?"

"Nothing. But..." he stopped, as if unsure of how to finish. "I can just tell by her actions how she... feels, I think." He nodded repeatedly.

"Her actions?" I repeated, tilting my head. "Like..." He just looked at me for a moment then suddenly interested in his hands. The light bulb in my head then clicked on and I was with him. "Oh... I see. Well then, yeah. She most likely feels the same way... sure," I said, trying to force myself to leave the subject alone. But my mouth opened again. "And so Isaac now hates you because you... 'stole' Simone from him," I clarified, using air quotations for the word 'stole.'

He shook his head slowly.

"Yeah... I guess that would be a significantly good reason why he would hate me... if he does."

"Oh, trust me, he does," I assured him, chuckling.

He laughed once.

"Thank you. It's so good to know that for sure," he murmured, closing his eyes again. The bangs of his hair once again fell in front of his face, giving off a boyish look. I only smiled. _He seems so innocent. Like a small child, protected from the corruption of the real world. _I continued to watch him as he sat there silently. _Those stupid bangs... I wonder. _I narrowed my eyes and focused on his fact, desperately trying to keep control of my power, although it was much easier than it had been. My hands shook and I let the small force field go, smiling as I watched it push away from me and connect with Peter. He jumped as he felt it on his body, the invisible field brushing the bangs from his eyes, like wind. My smile only grew wider, allowing my teeth to show. _It worked..._

I let out a breath, almost not believing that I controlled it. He glanced at me, his half-smile staring me in the face. "How'd you do that?" he questioned, breathlessly.

"I didn't knock the wind out of you, did I?" I answered with another question, slightly concerned.

He took a deep breath before answering.

"No, I'm good. I've faced worse."

Once at his apartment, we both exited the taxi cab, Peter as always leading the way to the door. He unlocked the door, pushing it open wide enough for me to walk in first. I only shook my head.

"Oh, chivalry. So cliché." I smirked at him. He raised his eyebrows at this.

"Hey, if you want me to push passed you and walk in doors first, you just let me know and I'll gladly do it," he replied, in a faux defenfive tone.

I sighed.

"Oh, no, no. I'll just have to live Peter Petrelli and his gentlemanly ways," I muttered dully, taking a seat on the chair in the main room. I glanced up at him as he walked over to the sink and got a glass of water. _I guess it never occurred tro me how beautiful he was. At first glance, you'd think he was a jerk, considering the majority of good-looking men I've met in my lifetime ended up being jerks in every meaning of the word. But not Peter. He's the total opposite. I just don't see how it's possible. _

Peter made a face then spoke up after a few moments of silence.

"What are you staring at?" he questioned, slightly curious. Again, like a child.

"Oh..." I looked around the room before my eyes landed back on him. "Nothin' special. Just you," I replied, teasingly. I haven't been this comfortable talking to someone since... I let my train of thought break off. _Well, it's been a long time. _After a few minutes, he thought it best to go to sleep and offered me his room, though this time I was conscious and aware of what was going on around me. Curling up in Peter's sheets, I couldn't help, but think of the good old days where I used to feel comfortable and safe. I smiled at the refreshing feeling of home. I drifted off into sleep with only one thought in my head, leaving my mind at ease. _Home..._

**Reviews? Sorry it took so long. I will try to get back into the habit of posting these up. **

**=]**


	6. Chapter 6: PreyPredator

**So, again, it has been literally FOREVER since I've last been on here and I am truly sorry for it. I've been super busy with school and my life lately. I promise I'll try to do better. Here is chapter six. Hope you enjoy.**

_Chapter Six: Prey/Predator_

Taking in a large breath, I rolled over onto my back and rubbed my eyes, feeling somewhat refreshed. Looking around the room, I remembered that I wasn't at my own home in my own bed which reminded me of the dark figure that almost took my life. _Surely he's gone by now._ I pulled the sheets aside and threw my legs to the side of the bed before stepping onto the floor. But before I got any further, I paused, hearing voices in the next room. It was too muffled to understand what was being said, but I could make out the tone of the voices. _One is Peter and the other... sounds life a woman. Who could it be? _I then suddenly remembered who it most likely was. _Simone. I can't walk our there when she's here. She'll get the wrong idea._

I swayed slightly, trying to think of a way I could slip out of the apartment without being seen. I bit my lip nervously, glancing around the room again frantically. I spotted the window. _I wonder... _I ran quietly to it and looked down. No fire escape was below. Then the thought hit me. _Maybe I could use my power to... _I narrowed my eyes, judging how many feet away from the ground I was. I pulled back a little and made a face. _Ya think? _

I tentatively pushed the window up, trying my hardest not to make a sound. Once it was far enough open for me to climb out of, I leaned my head out of it followed by my arm, extending it downward. My eyes squinted in concentration. _Come on, come on... _I then felt the invisible field creep out of me. My eyes widened. I pulled back, and then carefully stuck my left leg out of the window, hoping there was an invisible force field below me. I felt around the supposed empty air, my tongue sticking out of the side of my mouth as I did so. _I've never been comfortable with heights... which is great considering what I have to do right now._

Trying to focus on the task at hand, I stopped thinking about my slight fear of heights. Lowering my leg a little bit further, I suddenly came in contact with a hard, sturdy surface. I let out a breath. _Thank you, God._ I stepped out of the window timidly, pulling my other leg out of the apartment and, all the while balancing on my left leg of which appeared to be standing on nothing. Once completely out of the window, I crouched down and my elbows rested on my thighs. I concentrated even harder, once again extending my hand out downward, this time juggling the invisible step I was currently standing on.

Another spurt of energy spouted from me and went in the direction of my hand. I shifted, sitting down and using my right leg to feel for the next step. Once finding it, I quickly jumped from the first one to the most recent step, causing my heart to nearly burst out of my chest. _This is so unreal._ I let the first step go and focused on getting myself further to the ground as carefully as possible. Several minutes later, I was approximately twelve feet from the ground. My nerves were shot and I wanted nothing more than to curl up on my couch. _Just a little bit further_, I thought to myself as I concentrated on the next step. Once creating it then stepping onto it, I was almost to the ground. I stuck my hand out in one last attempt to create another step, but instead collapsed in exhaustion and the step I was sitting on immediately disappeared. I then fell onto the concrete with a thud, stomach first. I groaned in pain.

Pushing myself up from the pavement, I examined my hurt arm, finding a rather large scratch. I set my hand over it before vocalizing a weak, squeaky, "Ow." I stood up, groaning again at my aching body parts. _I guess things could be worse. _I flagged down a taxi for what seemed like the hundredth time, deciding it was time I went home. _With all of the fuss these past few days, I completely forgot about work. I might as well quit that stupid job. It's not like I have an emotional attachment to it. _I arrived at my home, thought proceeded with heavy caution. Once entering the building, I decided to attempt putting myself in a mobile force field. I tried. I also failed. _Maybe someday. _I continued down the hallway and into my apartment. I turned the door knob. _It's unlocked... _Then forced myself to come to my senses. _Think about it. He almost killed you and you screamed bloody murder. He probably wasn't planning on sticking around. After all, if he _is_ going after special people, there are many others he could move on to. Granted, he might come back for you, but he wouldn't wait around two days for you. _

Realizing I was being a little too paranoid, I traveled through my apartment though stopped at the entrance of my room. _It's alright, it's alright. He's gone. He's not here. There's no need to worry yet. Calm down. _I crossed the threshold slowly; cautiously, hoping I really was just being silly and there was no reason to be this afraid. I changed out of my clothes and took a shower, feeling more refreshed. I stood at my closet, tapping my foot in my towel. _What to wear, what to wear... _After several minutes of trying to put together a somewhat nice-looking outfit, I gave up and grabbed a t-shirt as well as a green hooded sweat shirt and a pair of well-worn light blue jeans. Stepping into the bathroom, I realized I hadn't been in it for days. _If it was even remotely possible to 'look like hell' as the expression goes, I do. _I brushed out my tousled hair, cringing at my more stubborn tangles. Setting the comb down softly, I stared into the mirror, trying to recognize the person in the reflection. _It was only days ago that I was just a normal girl working at a normal job with a normal boring life. And all of the sudden, I've come to discover these amazing abilities. _I looked deeply into the familiar hazel eyes that were my own, finding several things that weren't there before. _When I was a nobody, I had no big expectations for myself. But now... everything's changed. I may have a larger purpose than taking down drink orders or bringing plates of food to strangers and trying to remember which plate goes to who. _I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. _Who _are _you?_

Walking out of the bathroom, failing to answer my own question, I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door, pausing to lock the door then deciding, _why bother? My biggest threat can obviously get past my lousy apartment door anyway. _I walked down the street at a steady pace, looking at my surroundings, though not really caring what they were. I continued down the sidewalk, passing the occasional person. Shoving my hands into the deep corners of my pockets, I pressed on down the street. _I seem to be taking a lot of soul-searching walks lately. It's pretty if I've done all this walking, picking my brain apart, and still haven't figured myself out. _Looking up ahead of me, watching where I was headed, I found myself not alone. A tall, dark-skinned man stood a fair distance from me, giving off a sudden eeriness. Something about his presence set me on edge as my pace slowed gradually. My eyes narrowed. _Something's not right. _

He only stared at me with his black eyes. My feet then stopped abruptly. My head tilted. "Do you need something?" I called out to him, practically feeling my own words drop to the ground, immediately knowing I wouldn't get an answer. Not from him anyway. Another man then emerged from around the corner, almost as tall as the dark-skinned man, though not nearly as frightening. As he came clearly into view, I was able to make out more of his physical appearance. He had horn-rimmed glasses set perfectly upon his nose and a smile that was all too menacing to be a warm welcome. He stared me down like I was on display at a museum. I took a step back. My heart began to beat faster and louder, causing me to hear it in my ears. _Maybe I underestimated the Glasses Guy..._

I didn't think about reasoning with them. I didn't think about how I was going to escape. I just turned around and ran, unable to figure out where I was going. All that was going through my head was, _run! Run like there's a herd of wild buffalo chasing you! Run like your life depends on it! No! Run _because _your life depends on it! GO! _For what felt like minutes, I though I had a chance at getting away. I thought that just maybe my legs didn't fail me this time. But apparently I assumed wrong as I felt a large pair of hands reach out and grab me, forcing me into a rough, abrupt halt. I was met with the dark-skinned man, realizing how much taller he was up close. I gawked up at the two men in horror as they both stared back at me. And that was the last things I remembered, other than muttering a weak "Please, don't" before being completely consumed in darkness. And cute the Looney Tunes ending. I, once again, blacked out.

I awoke with unease, sitting up, and grunting as I did so. I pressed my palm to the side of my head immediately, being overwhelmed with pain. I opened my eyes and looked around me, confused. _Wha...? _I was shocked to find myself on my couch in my apartment. I glanced around me hurriedly, thought seeing nothing strange or out of the ordinary. _What happened to me? I wasn't here when I... fainted! Those guys, they something to me! _I quickly stood up and ran to the mirror, looking at my reflection, searching for a large, gruesome scar on my stomach signifying a missing kidney; anything bad. I ripped of my jacket with haste and checked up and down my arms. _What did they do to me?! I don't remember _anything_! _I pulled at the collar of my t-shirt then froze, spying something that wasn't originally there before. My eyes grew as I stared into the mirror at the part of my skin where my neck and shoulder connected and let out a short breath. _What did they do to me?_I asked myself again as I gawked at the two centimeter-long parallel scratch marks.

Then the alarm on my phone sounded before I pulled it out of my pocket and flipped it open. _2:30pm – Work Tonight _the message told me. I only glanced at the screen, puzzled. _That's not right. I work the day after tomorrow. _I checked the calender on my phone, but was astonished when I discovered the date. _It's been two days... it's been two DAYS?! _A small, weak noise came from the back of my throat as I let the facts sink into my brain like a sponge in a puddle. I blinked. My phone then rang in my hand, causing me to jump at the sudden loud sound. I looked at the number. _Peter. _I pushed down hard on the Talk button and pressed the phone to my ear. "Peter?"

"Nora! I know where we can find the cheerleader! She's at a high school in Odessa, Texas! I'm getting a flight out there. You have to come with me! We have to leave _now_!" he cried out in one breath, obviously not asking if I wanted to go. _I don't really have an option, it would appear. He could get himself killed if he went alone. _

"When?" I asked swiftly, looking back in the mirror, eyeing my most recent wounds.

"I'm in cab on my way to your place now," he informed quickly, anxiously. I bit my lip. _This is it. This really is happening... we're going off to save a cheerleader from the dark figure in Isaac's painting. A real life Boogeyman. _I blinked, feeling the pit of paranoia begin to slowly form in my stomach again. "Nora?" his voice snapped me back to reality.

"I'll be ready when you get here," I said robotically, not moving my eyes from my reflection.

"See you soon," he replied, giving off a more calm, concerned tone. The corners of my mouth barely pulled upward. I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket, my eyes still watching myself. My fingers ran across the little scratches and I shivered as I felt the indentations under my fingertips. _They _are _real. _Pulling the collar of my shirt back over the scratches and grabbing my jacket again, I strode out my door, wondering if I was going to see my apartment again. I stood at the side of the street as the taxi containing Peter pulled up, stopping on front of me. I quickly got in the cab, slamming the door behind me and glancing next to me to find Peter looking back at me.

My eyebrows furrowed.

"Now how is this gonna work?" I questioned, not leaving his glance.

"We'll get to Odessa, Texas and find the high school, crash Homecoming," he explained, seriously. "Then-" I cut him off.

"Rescue the cheerleader, defeat the bad guy, and save the world?" I finished, raising my eyebrows.

His mouth curved up into a half-smile.

"Yeah. I guess," he agreed, tucking his bangs behind his ears. "We have to meet Hiro Nakamura, the one who told me about the cheerleader. He and his friend are at a diner in Texas." He took a deep breath. "I mean, let's face it. We'll probably need all the help we can get."

I let out a sigh, looking out my window. "Hey," I heard him say gently, nudging my arm causing me to drag my eyes back to his face. "Are you alright?" he asked in a worried tone of voice, furrowing his eyebrows.

I stared off, passed his head and out his window. I blinked a few times then shrugged. "I'm alive." His worried expression deepened.

"What is it?" he pressed, obviously curious about my strange attitude.

"I just... am wondering if this is really what we're meant to do, what _I'm _meant to do. Going off and helping this cheerleader, saving people in need... I never, in a million years, thought that I was the hero type," I said, shaking my head repeatedly. "I've always just been the average girl who other people try helping." _Well, that was a little too informative, don't ya think? _

I continued to feel his eyes burn into me.

"Nora, you have such an extraordinary gift. _You _can be a hero..." he trailed off, glancing down. "More of a hero than me. I mean, I can't even call up my abilities. They just happen whenever."

I set my hand on his shoulder, feeling like I was invading his space by doing so.

"But you _are _a hero. Look at you. You had someone come to you from the future and specifically tell you not to let someone be harmed. No Superman. _You._" He barely looked back up from under his eyelashes as I said this. "And the best part is that you didn't have to go and 'save the cheerleader'. But here we are, in a taxi, going to Texas to help someone who may be in danger that we don't even know. You are a _good _person, Peter. And if that fact alone doesn't prove that you're a hero, I don't know what does." I finished my big motivational speech, tilting my head and looking him in the face for a few short moments.

He didn't try to hold back his half-smile.

"Wow," he shook his head. "I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Let's just save this cheerleader," I said gallantly (of which I was quite proud pulling off without sounding cheesy). He smiled even wider at this and for the rest of the ride in the taxi, we were silent. Remembering that I had set my phone on vibrate, I felt it in my pocket. Pulling it out, I checked the screen, of which read _Go to Work. _After staring at the message for a long moment, I smiled and for the first time in my whole life, I felt like the puzzle piece that represented me and my constant struggles to fit into the world finally had been connected to the rest of the picture. I knew that what I was doing then and where I was going and all of those little minor details that made up my present, was exactly what I was suppose to do and suppose to be. I wasn't lost. I was enlightened.

I had never flown before. And to be completely honest, I was terrified. _"Safest way to travel" my backside. I am freaking _out _right now. _I took several deep breaths in before exhaling, fidgeting nervously. "Nora?"

"I'm fine." I turned to face Peter, shooting his the best reassuring smile I could muster. Unfortunately, though, the continuous deep breathing and fidgety fingers only made my fear more apparent. He smirked at my behavior.

"Nora, everything's going to be fine," he said in a soothing voice.

"I know, I know. Everything's fine. The plane's fine. This seat is fine. I am..." I paused, exhaling another breath. "Fine."

A long silence occurred before anyone spoke again and when the silence was broken, it was Peter who spoke. "Hey, Nora, can I ask you a question?" he asked, curiosity filling his voice.

"Mhm" was my only reply, my eyes clamped shut, in hopes of making myself feel less sick.

"How did you get out of my apartment a few days ago?" My eyes flickered open. "I mean, I went into my room to check on you and you were gone." My eyebrow raised as I thought of what to say.

"Well..." I took a breath in. "I got up and I heard two voices out in the main room... One was a female voice." He nodded slowly, putting the situation together in his mind. "I automatically assumed it was this Simone person and that's when it occurred to me 'How bad would it look if I came waltzing out of your bedroom, bed head and all, grabbing a cup of coffee and greeting her'? Not too good of an idea." He chuckled. "So... I sort of... climbed out your window." I shifted my eyes, nodding my head from side to side.

His eyebrows pulled together.

"How is that possible? I live on the fifth floor."

"I..." making gestures with my hands, continued, "_made _my own way down. Like steps. Only it gave me a headache," I finished, making a weird face at the last part.

His eyebrows then rose like he was surprised.

"You can do that?"

"Apparently." He let out a breath that resembled a "Phew".

"That's cool," he commented, smiling at me. I nodded in response.

"It hurt my head. But maybe someday I'll get the hang of it." From then on, we 'shot the breeze', as they say, for the remainder of the flight. I said things and he would laugh, telling me it wasn't what I meant, but my way of phrasing things. He apparently took amusement in hearing me talk which was new. Most people will just look at me funny, but he understood my jokes, which I must admit, was refreshing. I almost completely forgot my fear of flying and the fact that we were on our way to our possible doom. I was comfortable. _I_ was home.

**Okay. Hope it was a decent read. Let me know what you think. Thanks for taking the time to glance at my story.**

**=]**


	7. Chapter 7: Save the Cheerleader

**New chapter. Hope you like. Might take a little longer to update again so sorry in advance. :(**

_Chapter Seven: Save The Cheerleader, Save The World_

By the time we got to the café, where the supposed Hiro Nakamura and his English-speaking friend were at, the sun had set and it was beginning to get dark. We pulled up to a pleasant looking restaurant called the Burnt Toast Café and the taxi screeched to a halt. Peter told the driver to wait and quickly got out, shutting the door. I followed suit, with difficulty, considering the fast pace Peter was moving. As far as he was concerned, it was go time. The clock was counting down until the time shown in Isaac's painting. The exact time when Peter would die, down to the minute. I was afraid. Afraid for him, afraid for me. I was even afraid for the cheerleader of which I still didn't even know.

I felt my familiar paranoia somehow find a way to creep back up on me, causing me to be even more nervous. _Deep breaths, Nor. Just like on the plane. Suck it up for once in your life. Do what you have to do. Several peoples' lives are on the line, including yours. Step up to the plate and be prepared to hit that ball outta the park… Why am making references to baseball? Geez, I'm a freak._ I picked up speed, walking behind Peter as he strode up to the diner. I spied a man standing next to the café, who looked quite far from home. I assumed this was the man we needed to see.

"Ando?" Peter called to him. The man turned to look at Peter then shifted his eyes to me. Peter walked up to him. "Hey, Peter Petrelli," Peter greeted shaking his hand. "How are you? Sorry, so sorry it took forever. I-I couldn't get a flight and the taxis in this town are…" he trailed off realizing it didn't really matter. I reached out and also shook the man, Ando's hand and also introduced myself, smiling weakly. "Hi. Nora Tate." He nodded respectfully at me.

"We still have time. Where's-Where's Hiro?" Peter asked hurriedly, glancing around. Ando only looked down.

"Follow me," he said, turning around and walking into the café. Peter and I exchanged a look before following behind him, making our way through the small restaurant. Ando stopped in front of a display of pictures, all of them involving a young woman who appeared to be named Charlie. "Hiro traveled back in time to rescue Charlie," Ando explained picking a small photo off the wall and handing it to Peter. I also peeked over his shoulder and took a glance at it myself. There stood another Japanese man standing next to the young woman, Charlie. It was her birthday and they were both smiling. "I told him it wasn't a good idea. Peter Petrelli might call, but he insisted," he finished, in his heavy accented voice.

"What happened to her?" I questioned curiously, eyeing the picture in Peter's hands.

"She was killed," Ando replied solemnly. My heart skipped a beat. "We were sitting right here," he continued, walking over and pointing to a table, "It happened so fast," he turned back to us, his serious expression deepening. "Next thing we know, she was dead and the killer was gone in a flash. Like Okage."

Peter and I only stared at Ando in confusion.

"O-what?" I asked dumbly.

"Uh," he attempted to find a better word, "Boogeyman." His last comment hit a nerve, his eyes wider emphasizing the horror and I flinched. _The dark figure… Charlie must've been special…_ "Hiro said maybe it's the same man that's going to attack the cheerleader," Ando added, as Peter turned away, in thought.

"Well, of course it is! He had to be!" I uttered under my breath. "How was she killed?"

He turned to me. "I don't know. They covered her and took her away before we got to see." He looked back and forth at us. "I told Hiro a do-over would be too risky, but Hiro says, 'Man who is too scared to use power does not deserve to have power,'" he said, quoting his time-traveling friend.

Peter suddenly turned to Ando.

"I know when and I know where the cheerleader gets attacked," he muttered under his breath, pulling out the copy of Isaac's painting from his shirt pocket and showing it to Ando. "I have to stop him."

Ando took the picture and studied it, his eyebrows turning down in concentration. His eyes widened as he realized what the photo contained and he abruptly stared back up at Peter. "Is this you?"

"Maybe," Peter replied, dryly.

"You have a power," Ando stated, pointing Peter.

"Sort of."

"You have super-strength? You can bend time and space like Hiro," he guessed hopefully.

"No, I kind of absorb the abilities of others." Ando was obviously confused by this considering his facial expression. "But only when they're close." Peter glanced at me before looking back at Ando. "Truthfully, when I'm by myself, I'm not really anything."

I rolled my eyes. _Oh, shut up. _"He's absorbed my abilities twice," I chimed in, my arms crossed over my chest. I caught both of their attention with the comment. "I can make force fields with my mind," I explained to Ando who was giving me a questioning look. Peter looked at the clock briefly.

"We've got less than an hour. It happens at 8:12. I have to go," he said quickly, making his way back out of the café. Realizing he was leaving, I made a point to follow behind as always. "Are you coming?" he asked Ando over his shoulder.

"No. I will wait for Hiro. Without him, I am not really anything either," he replied slowly, sounding almost disappointed. "Maybe you both should wait too," he suggested glancing back at me. I only smiled at him.

"There's no time," Peter said coldly, taking the photo out of Ando's hand and walking towards the door. I stood at the door, propping it open with one of my hands. "I have to save the cheerleader."

"But Peter," Ando called back quickly. This time he had both of our attentions, awaiting the last closing words of our new foreign friend. "You die." My heart dropped to my stomach as I heard this dangerously frightening phrase, standing by the entrance of the Burnt Toast Café and waiting for my cue to walk to the vehicle. Peter only began to walk again, out the door and to the cab. The corners of my eyebrows pulled, as I shot one last sad smile at Ando before tagging along behind Peter, knowing what was to come next. I tried to swallow my doubts and fears as I followed Peter, a man I had met only days ago, to either my death or the answers we've both been longing for.

The cab pulled up in front of a high school. Stepping out of the taxi, Peter and I stood for a moment, looking at it. _This is unreal…_ I gawked up at the massive school building, a banner plastered across the front of it, reading in big bold letters, 'Homecoming.' My eyebrows pulled together. I turned to Peter. He pulled the photo copy of Isaac's painting out of his shirt pocket again, comparing it to the building in front of us. He glanced to me. "This is the place," he said darkly, his bangs falling in front of his eyes. "Ready?" _Ready… Ready?! Ready to face my ultimate fear a second time, with a likely chance that I could die here? That my murderer would be the same shadow-like man who stood feet away from me in my own bedroom? A man who can move objects with his mind and cut human flesh with a mere flick of his index finger?_ I shivered, closing my eyes. "Nora-" Peter began again, but I promptly stopped him.

"I'm alright." I nodded, my eyes meeting his shirt collar, shaking off my thoughts. "I'm here, I'm doing this." _For God's sake, Nora, show some confidence, some anger. You're going to need it._ "I just want to know who he is…" I muttered almost under my breath, in a dangerous tone. So dangerous that I could hardly believe it came from me, "So I can take care of him myself." I took the first step toward the high school, deadening my emotions and sense of compassion. _I want him to feel all of the pain he's caused. And then some._ Peter followed and we both made our way into the school, watching. Waiting for something to happen. We began to pass a rather large display case where I slowed to a halt, eyeing it with sudden curiosity. "The cheerleader," I breathed, my eyes wide. _She's real._ Various pictures of her were scattered about the case, one where she was accepting a plaque and shaking a hand. A paper banner hung over the it, saying in bold red letters, 'Jackie you're our hero.' "Hmph," I said aloud, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was just another bonehead cheerleader in uniform." I tipped my head, walking the length of the display case then took in my surroundings, the rather narrow school hallway. "She really must be a local celebrity here."

I then heard shuffling followed by a "Oh! Sorry!" I turned around to see a short blonde girl facing Peter, her hands held out in front of her, showing her obvious apology. Peter also verbalized his equally sincere "Sorry" as I remained in my spot, looking at the young girl. Peter picked up a red bag I assumed she had been carrying and gave it to her.

"That was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," she explained, her sweet voice filled with innocence. I dug deeper into my coat pockets. She turned away from Peter and started toward the end of the hallway, spotting me in the process, before Peter stopped her.

"Hey, do you know this girl? Jackie Wilcox?" he questioned, gesturing to the Jackie shrine.

"Uh, yeah. Halftime show starts in about five minutes. She should be out on the field. She's a cheerleader." She said this with a sort of robotic tone to her voice, like she's been asked about Jackie before. I took slow gradually steps over to them. Peter just smiled down at her, almost hiding behind his coat. "Are you guys reporters or something?" she asked him before turning to me and smiling. I smiled back, lips pulled tightly over my teeth. _She's quite pretty. Why do I feel like I've seen her face before?_ I continued to watch her.

"Alumni," Peter answered quickly, nodding. "I'm just curious." He smiled again at her. I tried to hold back my scoff. _Oh, I bet this girl is dying on the inside with him smiling the way he does._ She began to walk away again and I took another step forward, toward the case, my eyes narrowed. "Ya know, between you and me," she began again causing my ears to perk back up, "She's nothing special." I turned toward her slightly, hearing this and saw a smirk play on her face. I cracked a small grin at this. _I knew it. Jackie… sounds like a bonehead. This girl's more my style._ "Just your average teenage girl."

Peter's eyebrows pulled together at this and tilted his head. "She rushed into a fire and saved a man's life. Sounds kind of special to me," he replied, defensively. I only studied the girl's expression as she processed Peter's words.

"Yeah, you're right," she said finally, raising her eyebrows. "I'm jealous," she admitted, glancing over at the huge case again. I bit my lip. "She's our town hero. Me? I don't win too many popularity contests," she said, turning around for the third time and walking away from us and the case. My eyebrows pulled together. _That's weird…Why would she even bother telling us those things and then admit that she was jealous of a cheerleader? It doesn't make sense. She's a teenager. She wouldn't openly admit to being jealous of someone so easily. _

"Hey, it gets better," Peter called to her. She turned around, smiling, and asked a simple, 'What?' "Life after high school. It's a lot better," he said, using his assuring tone of voice. It was hard to second guess that voice. I knew from experience. She let out a small, barely audible chuckle before turning and continuing down the hallway until she disappeared around the corner.

"That didn't make sense to me," I said out loud now. He turned to me, confused.

"What didn't make sense?" he asked, as we both began to walk back down the hallway.

"It was just weird. She wasn't jealous of this Jackie Wilcox. She couldn't have been," I insisted, looking down at my shoes. "No teenage girl says she's jealous of another girl, much less a cheerleader, with a genuine smile on her face. It just doesn't happen." I shook my head.

"What are you saying?" he questioned, looking over at me.

"I'm not saying anything, except it was just weird." We continued down the hallway until we pushed through a pair of red doors and walked back outside, our shoes making _clop clop_ sounds on the pavement as we went. Peter slowed to a stop and slowly turned around, looking up. I blinked, tilted my head, and followed suit, immediately catching on to what he was doing. We both stood a few yards away from a large clock and a banner that read "Union Wells High School Homecoming" on it in big, black letters. Peter took out the photo of Isaac's painting and held it up. "Eight o'clock," I read the time aloud as the minute hand shifted one notch passed the twelve mark. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I walked back closer to the red doors and Peter walked further, glancing around us, listening for a signal. Anything that sounded remotely strange. After a few more minutes, I spoke. "So when exactly does this happen?" I asked, gawking out at the trees and squinting my eyes in an attempt to see better.

"I don't know," he replied gruffly, running his hand through his dark hair.

"Peter," I called, looking towards his direction. "What if nothing happens? What if we _were_ reading too much into things? What if you really were just dreaming up Hiro Nakamura?"

He stared back at me darkly. "There _is_ no what if, Nora. This is right. This is where we're suppose to be, right here." I could feel the pit holding my paranoia growing larger and larger. I didn't feel right and something was wrong, no matter what was coming out of my mouth. I felt like a child talking nervously during a horror movie, in hopes of distracting myself from the fact that innocent people were being stabbed and shot before my very eyes on screen. I gulped quietly and took another uneasy step toward the red doors. _He could be here right now… cutting away at her… and we wouldn't know because we're out here. If there was a place anywhere on this campus with scarce people, it'd be inside the school. The murderer would pick the most subtle place to kill a victim. Everyone else is on the field. No one would know until it was too late…_ I felt like I had just found a clue. Then, as if it came to my ears as confirmation, a loud, blood-curdling shriek came from inside the building and my heart stopped. I didn't take time to look back at Peter. I knew he would be right behind me. I ripped open the doors and pushed my way into the high school, trying desperately to figure out where I had heard it come from.

I ran swiftly through the hallways; The narrow, stereotypical high school hallways that were so silent only moments before. I tried to catch my breath, though failed as I screeched to a halt, looking both ways down the hallway with the display case. _Where would she be?!_ Realizing I had no time to make an educated decision, I just started running and all too soon, collided with someone else. I looked up finding the young blonde girl who had spoken with us minutes ago, now dressed in a cheerleader uniform and covered in blood. _Wait. Cheerleader uniform… She's-_ "Are you okay?" Peter asked her frantically, looking her up and down and noticing her gory looking apparel. Then, silence, as I saw, from the corner of my eye, a tall, dark familiar figure appear at the end of the hallway where the cheerleader had came from. My eyes widened. "Run! Go!" Peter screamed, pushing the cheerleader in the opposite direction and beginning to run himself. I was nearly frozen, staring at the frightening man mere yards away from me. _Him…_ "Keep going! Run!" Peter called back to her as he stopped running and faced the man, his feet planted on the ground.

I watched as he stood there in darkness and then looked to the left, as several lockers were being ripped from the walls and thrown in our direction at great speed. "Stay back, Peter!" I screamed, holding out my hands in front of me, pushing the force field from my body and out in front of me, causing the lockers to stop in their tracks and clang to the floor loudly all at once. His head barely tilted as he began walking forward, as if pursuing his prey. Releasing the field from my hands, I aimed it directly at him, hoping to knock him out like I had in my apartment. He faltered momentarily before regaining his strength and walking towards us again. _Crap… why didn't it work? Why do my powers decide to not work efficiently now?!_ I turned my back to him and gawked at Peter's face. "_Run_!" Grabbing Peter's forearm, I began to sprint in the direction he had sent the cheerleader until we both made it through double doors. Outside, there were large arena-like steps. The cheerleader fell down, screaming as Peter got to her, grabbing her arm, helping her back up and sending her upward. "Come on," he told her as he did so. I kept looking back over my shoulder, each time, seeing the man right behind us.

Peter stopped suddenly and the cheerleader turned to him panting. "What is it?" she asked, frightened, looking at him with wide eyes the size of saucers.

"Go. To the stadium, okay? Find people, find lights. He doesn't wanna be seen!" he told her, seriously.

"What about you?!" she asked frantically, tugging his arm.

"Don't worry about me. Just go!" he pointed away from us. She stared for a moment, still panting, unable to comprehend what he was telling her. "_GO_!" he screamed at her, causing even myself to jump. She immediately turned and ran away, without looking back at either of us again. I then suddenly looked back in front of us and screamed, not even realizing what had happened. "_PETER_!" The man was right there and grabbed a hold of Peter and I then lunged over the edge of the steps. I closed my eyes tightly and thought about the invisible steps I had used to make an exit out of Peter's window and like that, I stopped. I opened my eyes, my palms pressed firmed again the transparent barrier and then continued to look at the scene in front of me. I screamed loudly, though this time, it wasn't 'Run' or 'Peter.' There, on the pavement several feet below me, laid Peter, his body in disarray and the man, both of them sprawled out and unmoving. I stood and created my way down until my feet touched the ground and ran to Peter immediately.

"Peter!" I shook him repeatedly then examined his body closely. His limbs were twisted in ways that would damage him for good and he stared off through blank eyes. My bottom lip quivered as I continued staring at my contortioned friend. I laid my head down on his stomach, and took a deep breath in. "Please…" Please, God… don't let him die like this. People need him. _I _need him." I heard shuffling and opened an eye, discovering the man getting to his feet slowly and beginning to walk away towards the woods. I narrowed my eyes and rose to my own feet, glaring at his hunched over back. He obviously was hurting. My hands at my sides tingled with a familiar sensation. I strode toward him and let the fields flow from my fingertips, knocking him directly in the back of the head. He cried out in pain as I continued this process, gritting my teeth.

"What right do you have to do this to people?!" I barked at him through my teeth, continuing the blows to the back of his neck of which I assumed felt like a large, aluminum baseball bat striking him over and over. He finally fell to his knees and I looked over him, feeling like I was the one with the upper hand this round. "What did she do to you?! Or _me_, for that matter?! What would cutting my _head_ open do to profit you?" I asked him as he sat there on the ground, in a pathetic manner. I bent down to get a better look at him, but the hat was still tilted down, concealed in shadow. "You seem pretty confident in what you're doing. What's there to hide?" Then suddenly, with a quick flick of his finger, he threw me against a tree, causing me to groan in pain. My forehead wrinkled as I rubbed the back of my head. Before he even had time to get up, I pushed another force field out, hitting him immediately, forcing him back on the dirt patch he had been perched on. I stood up slowly, brushing myself off. "You still have some fight in you, I see." I bent down again, focusing a field around his long frame, forcing him to the ground. I grabbed his jaw with my left hand, turning his face to me. I opened my mouth and whispered, "I'm still waiting for my answer." I stared into the blackness hiding his face and at first he said nothing. Then, when I thought I'd have to ask again, I came to find I didn't have to.

"This act you're putting on. I see right through you." I could only stare. "We both know you don't have the nerve to do anything more than give me a fat lip. You aren't worthy of the gift you've been given. You might as well just give up and let me win like all of the other pathetic people I killed before you." I swallowed. The confidence, the pride. It was all so perfectly clear in his voice. My face fell in disgust as my fist connected with his face. I stood up as I heard him groan silently below me.

"Sorry to disappoint. Guess I'm more of a shiner kinda girl." My eyes narrowed as I shot another shock wave toward him, causing him to just barely convulse under the barrier.

"Or maybe you'll just torture me to death here. But you've got to grow weak sometime. And I'll be here when that happens," he continued to speak with a smart-aleck undertone, causing me to become even more angry. He only continued to look up at me from under his hat making me feel like I was the shiny new toy he was dying to play with even though he was nowhere near calling the shots. "I just can't wait to tear into the head of yours, Nora." I tried to hide the shiver he sent down my spine by saying my name, feeling like he forever changed how it sounded. I only stared back, trying to understand him even though, at the same time, I didn't want to delve into the inter workings of his twisted mind. I couldn't comprehend him. Here I was standing before him, obviously with the upper hand, yet he treats me like he's the boss. Looking at him, I suddenly saw the danger illuminating from his very being. The frightening thought that he'd somehow break free from my bindings and take me. I couldn't look away. And the paranoia, like it had all of those other times, came crashing back over me. Like the tick of a clock, it was right on schedule.

**Reviews?**

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	8. Chapter 8: Familiar Faces

**Sorry it took so long. I've been busy other projects lately. I'll try to do better, but no full-on promises. I wanna continue this as long as I can. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Eight: Familiar Faces in Difference Places_

"Come on, Nora. You _really_ think you can stop me?" I heard a velvet-like voice say to me as I continued to stare down at the Shadow Man that I'd been so frightened of. _Here is your almost murderer right in front of you. Why can't you finish him?! _My feet remained firmly planted on the soft ground as my mind pondered this. "Or... could it be that you have too much of a heart to stoop to my _psychotic_ level?" When I didn't answer, he took this as his opportunity to continue. "Why don't you just release me and I can put that glorious ability of yours to _good_ use."

Before I got a chance to even begin to form a reply, I was interrupted by a distant voice. 'Nora', I heard from behind me. I turned in the direction in which I came and held my breath. _Peter_. "Hm. It would appear you have to choose. Kill me, which does in fact qualify as an option despite the fact that you _can't_, or go to the wannabe-hero's rescue," I heard him say from behind me. I rolled my eyes. _I can't take much more of this_. I turned around swiftly and shot out a quick, powerful shield from my hands of which connected with him almost instantly, knocking him out cold. I smirked at the sudden silence. _I think I like you better unconscious._

Quickening my pace, I ran back in the direction of the school, all the while picturing Peter's mangled body on the ground just minutes before. Finding him on the pavement where he had been before, I knelt down. "Peter?! How..." I breathed, not believing what my eyes were showing me. He said nothing in response, but groaned loudly in pain before twisting his neck around to look at his body. His eyes grew large once he saw what I was seeing.

"I-I don't know," he said incredulously, his eyes wide with either fear or shock. In the darkness, it was too difficult to tell. Before I had time to ask anymore questions, I heard loud, piercing sirens pulling up behind us as cops emerged from their vehicles. I looked back at Peter who realized his foot was turned sideways, outward from his leg. His eyes widened as he grabbed it and twisted it back into its rightful place. I cringed at the cracking sound. "Those are the people. From New York that the janitor saw," I heard one of them say as they quickly surrounded both of us. "Put your hands on your heads!" another screamed, pointing a gun at Peter. I assumed another was pointed at me. I raised my hands in the air, trying to put away my thoughts that told me I could get myself out of there bullet-free. "What the hell? Look at all the blood," yet another cop said as they each studied Peter's gruesome appearance. Peter looked back at them through frightened eyes. "It's not what you think, guys!" One of the policeman took my hands and put them on my head forcefully. My eyes never left Peter as they did the same to him. "It's not me. He's getting away," Peter pleaded helplessly as they handcuffed both of us. "Let's go! Stand up!" We were escorted into the police car and away from the high school. I pressed my forehead to the window as we drove away and I thought again of the horror that had occurred not ten minutes ago. I thought again about Peter's miraculous recovery from the fall, trying to find an answer as to why he wasn't dead. I thought again about the evil a\man in my head. I, again, cringed.

Needless to say, Peter and I were separated, put in different holding rooms until someone figured out exactly what to do with us. _There's no way Peter can be accused of Jackie's murder. All of the blood on him was his own_. I looked around the room, from the gray brick walls to the boring white table set in front of me. I let out a breath. _Didn't think I'd be having another run in with the police so soon. _I thought back to the night I discovered my powers. The thief, the pure horror I felt, meeting Matt Parkman. _Matt Parkman... I wonder what he's up to right about now?_ Before I had time to think any further on the subject, the door burst open and in walked a blonde woman in a black pants suit, her mouth pressed in a thin line, giving off the attitude that she didn't want to be there. But it wasn't her who I was gawking at. After her came a man that was definitely familiar. My mouth dropped. "Matt?!" My face contorted.

He looked equally as stunned. "Nora? What are you doing here? You're with this Peter guy?" he questioned. The woman was suddenly confused.

"Parkman, you _know _her?" she asked, her forehead creasing.

He glanced to her quickly before answering. "Yeah. We're... friends." He looked to me again. "Nora, why are you in Odessa, Texas?" There was no need for me to even answer. Everything from the past few days flashed through my mind in a fast slide show. Meeting Peter who was convinced he could fly and was destined for something greater. Isaac painting the future and Peter acquiring his ability and painting the cheerleader's fate. Hiro Nakamura who found Peter and insisted he "saved the cheerleader." Everything, of course, was tied and double-knotted to one crucial detail: The Shadow Figure who attacked me in my apartment, the living myth Okage, as Ando referred, who lurked the earth for special people just like him to kill. To steal their power. It was all there. I didn't need to say a word. "Oh, my God," was all Matt said after watching the short film in my head.

"What is it, Parkman?" the woman asked, agitated, wanting to be in on the secret.

His eyes were wide. "Sylar." My mouth went dry. _The Shadow Man, Okage, The Boogeyman... Sylar. _His name alone sounded as dark and sinister as he was.

"Sylar? That's his name..." I trailed off.

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on here?" she asked again, growing impatient.

"It's Sylar. He tried to kill Nora. And the cheerleader. They went to Texas to save her," Matt explained swiftly, his eyes still wide.

"I'm pretty sure he got away," I added, swallowing.

"Pretty sure? What does that mean?" she questioned, annoyed.

My thoughts flashed again to Sylar dragging Peter and I over the edge. Me using my ability to save myself. My hear shattering as I looked down to see Peter's mangled body. My revenge on Sylar for supposedly killing my friend. I left him when I heard Peter's pained voice. Then he was gone. Matt, again, suddenly understood. "She had him contained for few brief moments, but then he escaped. That's all that she knows about his whereabouts," Matt replied, looking down at the boring white table. She sighed looking back at me.

"Are you sure you have everything we need?" she asked, still not wanting to trust me.

He look another long glance at me, looking one last time into my mind, my life. "Yeah. She's innocent. Just an innocent bystander," he then looked back at the woman. "She's free to go."

Stepping out of the building, I took the cell phone from the plastic bag holding the rest of my personal items and pressed in Peter's number immediately. It rang once. I hailed down a taxi just as it was passing. It rang twice. I got in and told the driver to take me to the airport. It rang three times. _Come on, Peter. Why aren't you answering?_ Worry and fear set in as the fourth and final ring ended and then cut to his voicemail. My heart skipped a beat. "Peter. It's Nora. I just got out of the police station and I'm headed back to New York. I don't know where you are. Please, call me back. I need to speak with you." I shut the phone and waited. Waited for my phone to buzz, for something to happen that would make me a little less confused. I waited... but got an answer from neither problems.

Arriving at my apartment building, I blinked lazily upward. "Thank you," I said, paying the cab driver as I stepped out of the door and shut it, walking up to the steps. Once I reached my place, I took out my key and shoved it into the slot, twisting it sideways. The lock clicked. _It's not like Peter to not call back. I hope he's alright. _I sighed heavily, dropping my jacket on the floor. I gawked around my small apartment. _Huh. After these past couple excitingly frightening days, it's hard to understand how content I was with my average life before my powers_. I walked into my bedroom, scanning the walls, the closet, my bed. I sighed again.

Being caught up in all of the madness, I hadn't realized how tired I was. Collapsing on the soft comforter, I maneuvered under the sheets and shifted to my side before curling up in a ball. My thoughts were consumed with Peter and only Peter. I tried to put my mind at ease with pleasant thoughts of my early childhood, but somehow Peter's face kept flashing through my mind.

I recognized immediately what was happening and stopped it in its tracks. _No. No intimate feelings. Not again. Don't you remember what happened last time that became an issue? How idiotic would it be to willingly jump into that again?_My softer, weaker side tried to reason. _But this is different. It _feels_ different. And that was so long ago... _I shook my head. _No. Veto this small, developing infatuation. He's a friend. Only. _I shut my eyes tightly, picturing Peter the night we took the cab. His hair fell over his eyes, like it always did and I used my power to push it away. His eyes... his mesmerizing, unavoidable eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat. _You're forgetting that he's in love with someone else, Nora. _I closed my eyes tighter. _Simone. _

I tried my hardest not to visualize them together, whoever she was. She was probably extremely beautiful and smart. Smarter than me. Talented. Loving. _Why would he give that up? _I waited patiently as sleep slowly, finally took me away to its dreamland where nothing could hurt me. As I waited, I thought again of Sylar in my room, pinning me to the wall and cutting me open. I shuttered and pulled my sheets tighter around me, praying the dreamland would protect me from the nightmarish images of his dark figure.

After waking up, I promptly went for my phone to call Peter again only to get his voicemail. Again. I began to pace as my impatience slowly took over. _What if something's wrong? What if the police thought he was the one who killed the cheerleader? _As my mind continually jumped to conclusion after conclusion, I was a blur, marching back and forth. _I don't know how much longer I can sit here and wait for a call. I need to move. To find answers somehow. _I racked my brain for any possible way to figure out what was happening. Then an idea popped into my mind. Grabbing my jacket off the floor, I slammed my door and ran outside, hoping where I was heading would lead to answers. Not a half hour later, I found myself standing in front of the painter, Isaac's building. I marched up to the door and walked in, too rushed to be polite.

"Isaac, I need your help. Have you heard from Pete-" I stopped mid-sentence as three pairs of eyes suddenly met my own, all conveying a similar emotion. I let out a sigh and my mouth pulled up just slightly as I scanned the new faces and the familiar one that I expected to see. "Sorry. I probably should've knocked, but..." I trailed off, swaying slightly. _Well... this is awkward. _I nodded. "Yeah, um... I was wondering if you've seen Peter, Isaac?" The man standing in front of one of Isaac's paintings suddenly looked interested.

"How do you know Peter?" he asked suspiciously, taking a step in my direction. I opened my mouth, waited a moment before answering.

"Uh... we're friends... sort of. I haven't heard from him in awhile and I got worried. Um, I'm sorry, how do you know him?" I questioned, confused.

The man narrowed his eyes at my question and answered simply, "Peter's my brother."

Realization suddenly washed over me. My eyebrows raised. "Oh. You must be Nathan. The politician." I exhaled and made cautious steps further into the room. "I'm Nora. Peter and I... we met out of shared... interests." I leaned in closer to Nathan, lowering my voice. "Certain _abilities_ we have... I guess you could say we're people joined by crazy theories." I blinked, looking up at him, noticing I had his full undivided attention. Something about his antagonizing stare made me slightly on edge. "I last saw him in Texas... we were trying to save a cheerleader..."

Nathan exhaled loudly, dragging his hand down his face.

"So you are buying into this crap too, huh?" he questioned, looking at the painting in front of him. A painting of some sort of exploding man.

"It's not crap, that's what I'm getting at here," I pleaded suddenly. He scoffed quietly not looking back at me. "Hey." He turned his eyes back to me, his expression bored. "I think you believe in it more than you let on. After all..." I leaned in close, my voice a hushed whisper. "I seem to recall him saying he _flew _when he was with you, Nathan.

His eyes briefly showed signs of surprise, but as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"Well, now he's convinced that he's going to blow up New York City. He was going on about how he was 'absorbing too many powers' and couldn't handle them all.'" His voice then grew louder, as if to let the whole room hear what he was saying. "The last thing Peter said before he collapsed was that he was the cause of the explosion." The room was silent momentarily as if to process this information. "Look, I may not get everything. That's fine, but this, I mean-" he motioned from the painting of Peter flying to the exploding man sprawled out in warm hues of color all over the other canvas, "These things _can't_ be connected. The world doesn't work like this." Before anyone else had a chance to reply, the door opened and in walked two people, one of which looked particularly familiar. The man I didn't recognize was the first to speak, his Japanese accent heavy and unmistakable. "Mr. Isaac, bad news. Sword not there. It was replica. Owned by a man named Linderman."

"Did he say Linderman?" Nathan said confused, looking behind the canvas to see who was talking. His eyes then widened. The Japanese man the smiled largely and screamed, "Flying Man!" his arms raised up in the air. I looked from one to the other, shocked. _ How does this Japanese guy know Peter's brother, much less his ability? _My eyes narrowed as I continued to stare. _If Peter thinks he's a bomb somehow then he's going to try to get out of the city, the state. As far away from here as possible. _

"Nathan?" His eyes met mine quickly and to my surprise, I didn't look away this time. "You said Peter collapsed..." I blinked once, my voice low and serious, "Where is he?"

**Hope you liked it. Will try to get to writing again soon. :)**


	9. Chapter 9: All For The Greater Good

**Sorry it's kinda short. I'll try to write more on the next chapter. Enjoy Claude and his awesomeness.**

_Chapter Nine: All for the Greater Good_

I tried to hide my uneasiness of Nathan's glare as I continued to look at him through narrowed eyes. _I don't know what he's more protective of: His brother's safety or his reputation. Either way, he's not talking. _"Nathan," I said again, sternly. "I may be able to help him. I can't do that if I don't know where he is. Now, please, tell me where I can find Peter."

Practically bounding out of Isaac's building, I made my way to the street corner, already repeating the address Nathan gave me over and over in my mind not wanting to forget it. As I did so, I pulled my phone from my pocket and tried one last time to call Peter. After the second ring, it picked up.

"Nora?" Peter's voice flooded my ears and my heart skipped a beat. Relief crashed over me.

"Peter, where are you? I haven't seen you since we were taken away in Odessa-" I got interrupted.

"Nora, listen to me. I don't know when, I don't know how, but sometime soon a bomb is going to blow up New York City-"

"Peter, I know-" Another interruption.

"No, Nora, you don't get it! I'm the bomb!"

"Peter, I know! Nathan already told me!"

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"Nathan? My Nathan- My brother, Nathan?"

"Oh… yeah, I sorta met him a few minutes ago when I went to Isaac's." I kicked a small rock a few inches away from my shoe as I said this.

"Wha…?"

"I know, it's weird! Peter, where are you? I'm coming to meet you." I stepped closer to the curb and looked down the street, ready to hail down the nearest taxi.

"No. Nora, it's not safe to be around me anymore. I don't know when this is going to happen, but I am not taking the chance of hurting you," he replied, seriously.

"Peter, think about what you're saying! How is it even humanly _possible_ for you to blow up _period_, much less completely abolish the entire city of New York?"

Silence.

"Wow. You really put it in perspective for me, Nor. This situation makes much more sense now with you're logic added into the equation," he shot back sarcastically.

"Hey, don't get sassy with me- Wait a minute, did you just give me a nickname?"

"What?"

"Did you just call me 'Nor'?" I questioned.

"Nora, can you try to focus on the bigger picture here?" he half-screamed in my ear.

I sighed.

"Right, right. Sorry. Where are you? I'm meeting you. Now. And don't try to convince me not to because my mind is already made up," I said quickly, now getting in a taxi.

My feet made a loud thump on the pavement as I climbed out of the cab, already spotting Peter standing on the busy sidewalk. His eyes made a beeline to me and a relieved smile crossed my features. I ran over to where he was and embraced him quickly. This action had obviously caught him off guard as he staggered back a bit before regaining balance, but he hugged back, his arms enveloping me into him. My eyelids shut tightly as I began to speak. "Thank God you're alright, Peter," I breathed, loosening my grip. I gazed up at him, seeing flashes of anxiety and nervousness. "Now tell me where this ridiculous idea of you blowing up a major city came from."

He suddenly got defensive.

"Don't you do that, Nor. You're the only one who believed me about flying; the only one who believed _in_ me," he pleaded, his eyebrows knitting together.

"I'm sorry, Peter, but how am I suppose to react? A human going nuclear and wiping out New York. It's crazy talk," I shrugged, shaking my head.

He only scoffed in response.

"How dare you even say that. I can fly-!" he continued loudly before I shushed him motioning toward the people all around us. He shifted his eyes, leaning closer, "I can fly and you can create force fields with your mind. Isaac can paint the future. All those things are suppose to be impossible, yet here we are, doing them," he trailed off. _Yeah. And Matt Parkman can read minds. _Realizing Peter had stopped speaking, I looked up and noticed he was gaping at me.

"What?" I questioned, eyeing him cautiously.

"The FBI guy who questioned me read my mind too…" he didn't finish as another strange expression filled his face. It seemed familiar to me somehow. _Like how Matt looked whenever he read my mind. _His eyes widened. "How do you _know_ him, Nora?"

My mouth dropped.

"How are you _doing _that?" I asked dumbly, loudly. I already knew the answer, of course.

His face scrunched up at this question.

"What have I been telling you all this time? I copy other peoples' abilities," he whispered in a screaming tone. My heart felt like it dropped into a dark pit in my stomach, swallowing it whole. _Oh, God. So he can read my mind whenever... _"Nora, how do you know him?" He asked again, prying. My mind, for what seemed like the billionth time, flashed back to the night at the diner. Each slide playing in order as the thief pulled the gun, as I discovered my abilities for the first time, and as I got to know Matt Parkman. His expression again returned to normal as he processed everything he saw. "That was… wild," was all he said, staring off passed me. I, on the other hand, stood there vulnerable, feeling utterly exposed, out in the open. _Nora, focus. Don't let your mind wander anywhere it shouldn't. _

I cleared my throat.

"Okay. So, let's say hypothetically speaking, you are a bomb. How would you acquire that ability? From a person?" I questioned, thinking through the possibilities. He thought about it before speaking.

"I guess so. How else would it happen? I just need to get out of town before I come into contact with whoever has that particular ability." _So there's a person out there who can explode as a power. How lame is that? _I glanced over at Peter who was staring off into the distance, frowning then looked around us. _Could this sidewalk be anymore crowded? _I started to look back at Peter, but turned around and realized he was gone. A lump rose in my throat. _He was _just_ here. _

"Peter?" I called out. I heard him talking, but saw no sign of him. 'Hey' I heard in his angry voice.

"You can see me?" I heard a different voice say. "You can't see me! Nobody sees me! Nobody!" I then heard something hit a solid surface. I glanced around, confused. _Peter? Where are you? What the hell? _I walked further down the street, frantically checking behind anything that may hide a person, but failed to find Peter. "Peter!" I called out again, louder this time. No answer. My heart began to race as I continued to search helplessly. I ran even further down the street. _How could you possibly have lost him? He was _right_ next to you! _I scanned every face, not finding one of them familiar. I continued to call out Peter's name, but heard nothing in return. _This is exactly like a crappy version of Marco-Polo with my eyes open. _My hand flew to the top of my head as I turned around in circles, beginning to panic. All of the sudden, I felt a hand grab a hold of me and drag me down the street. The freaky part was that when I looked down at my hand, there was nothing there. My eyes turned into saucers. _What the f-? _The invisible force continued to pull me in the direction as I struggled against it. "Ow! Hey, no!" I screamed, loudly.

"Nora, it's me," I heard a humble voice say into the open air. I had to restart my breathing.

"_Peter_?" I squeaked, dumbfounded.

"Who else would it be?" he asked, almost annoyed.

"Oh, well _excuse_ me for mistaking you for a _different_ invisible man!" I shot back defensively. "Where are we going?" I continued in a harsh whisper.

"I just met an invisible man! Obviously that's why you can't see me. We're following him," he announced to me, as we both walked down the street, Peter still obviously unseen causing me to look like a moron with my hand hanging out in front of me as I walked.

"_Why_?" I questioned, scrunching up my nose as I spoke.

"Because he knew what I was, what my power was! He can help me control my powers so if and when I come into contact with the human bomb, I can be ready," he declared, focused on not losing the transparent man we were following. I sighed loudly as a response.

"You realize how stupid I look with my hand out like this, right?" I uttered in a bored tone of voice, raising an eyebrow.

"If I let your hand go, you won't know where I am or where to go. It's best that I keep your hand and risk you looking stupid. It's all for the greater good, Nor," he replied matter-of-factly.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

"Oh. Well, in _that_ case," I retorted sarcastically.

"Hey!" I heard him call out, knowing he wasn't speaking to me. "Wait, where are you going? You need to explain this," I uttered to the invisible person. "Alright, I _saw_ you! I saw you in my dream. Who are you?"

"I'm no one!" I heard the strange, accented-voice mutter in response. "I'm The Invisible Man. Now get away from me! Forget you ever saw me," he demanded.

"Yeah, but you know… what's happening to me. What is this?" There was a brief pause before he continued. "Listen, I found you. I need you to help me," Peter said seriously, sternly.

"Why do I wanna do that?" the strange voice asked dryly.

"Because we're in danger. This entire city is in danger! It was in my dream," he explained somewhat sadly. I listened carefully, trying to block out the rest of the noise on the street. "People die. _We_ die. I don't know when, but it happens."

"Then you better leave town," the invisible man suggested finally after a short silence.

"Hey, where you going? You can't hide from me," Peter retorted, his voice rising with intensity.

The man laughed once, amused at this comment.

"I'm The Invisible Man. I can walk 'round the corner and disappear forever."

"Yeah, but I can see you! I'm gonna follow you!" Peter persisted, intent on finding the answers we both so desperately have been searching for.

"Smarter men than you have tried and then paid for it," the man replied grimly. I bit my lip as the conversation reached an end. "You _stay_ away from me. And _don't_ follow me!" he ordered one last time before the voice was gone. I heard footsteps departing and then out of nowhere Peter reappeared, looking drained and disappointed. My eyebrows pulled down as I tried to picture what he was looking at, seeing nothing and no one.

"What was _that_ about?" I questioned, confused. Peter didn't so much as glance away from the direction he was looking at.

"_That_ was the guy with our answers, Nora," he replied smoothly, taking a step forward. I immediately put my arm in front of him, blocking his way.

"Whoa, whoa, hey! Where do you think you're going? Were you even listening to him just now?" I asked in my high-pitch tone of voice.

"Yes. He was able to identify my ability. That means he knows about us. We have to follow him," he insisted, taking another step.

"Peter! I obviously didn't get a good look at the guy myself, but he's clearly _not_ playing Hide-and-Seek. He doesn't _want_ to be followed," I continued sternly as he started to walk in the direction the man supposedly disappeared.

"Nora," he answered seriously and firmly, grabbing my forearm. "This is what we've been _waiting_ for. Answers. Right at our fingertips and you just want to let them walk away and disappear around the corner without so much as an attempt to catch them?" he challenged, trying to look me in the eye. I turned away, looking in the same direction we were facing again. My eyes searched the sidewalk for something that was suppose to be there, but wasn't. I glanced back over at Peter who was still looking toward me. My eyes softened and my fist unclenched. _He sounded dangerous, Peter… _He stared down at me, his eyebrows pointed downward in a frown. I wanted more than anything to take my fingers and smooth out the creases in his forehead, but resisted. I didn't expect him to speak, but he did which took me off guard.

"We'll be careful, Nor. He won't hurt me _or_ you." My expression then changed into something different. _Did he just read my mind? _His eyes softened a bit as I thought this which made my heart sink. _He _did_, didn't he? _He looked down at the ground for once and appeared almost ashamed. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," he apologized, sheepishly. I quickly decided to change the subject.

"Well, I suppose we better not lose this man then. Let's go," I retorted and he was immediately serious again.

"Okay. We'll be moving quickly. When I get close, I'll probably disappear again. Be ready for it." I heard all of this suddenly as Peter was dragging me down the street, his goal set. I continued to feel the warm and slight roughness of his hand as I was pulled every which way to dodge people walking in the opposite and same direction as me. It didn't take long before he disappeared again right before my eyes. _It's gonna take me a while to get used to that. _I tried to make myself look less stupid as I walked quickly through the crowd, my hand floating in front of me. I eventually approached a building with beautiful architecture and noticed I was turning to walk toward it. _This is the place? _Invisible Peter didn't show any signs of slowing as we continued on into the building, chasing the man that I couldn't see and he was determined to find.

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